Misplaced Contrition
by elbcw
Summary: When d'Artagnan disappears after a mission, the others have to use all their resources and knowledge to get him back and ensure the vital intelligence he was carrying is still safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: This story was inspired by five of the Whumptober prompts I wrote, so you may recognise bits and pieces here and there, as I've retold the prompts within this piece.**

 **The story is finished, I intend to upload a chapter a day (subject to real life getting in the way). And I work shifts, so it won't be the same time each day. Sorry.**

 **It's mainly d'Artagnan and Athos whump, but both Porthos and Aramis have a bit of an angsty time of it with issues of their own.**

 **Prologue**

It had been the most stupid thing he had ever done. Why had he let it happen? How had he been taken in by them? The men had been friendly, they had talked amiably. They had asked about his work. He had been happy to talk to them about it. They had bought another bottle of wine. One of the men had refilled his cup. They had toasted him. He had taken a good swig of the wine.

And now he was sat in a cellar, his arms tied behind him, as a thumping headache assailed his senses. He was sure the headache was not down to the wine. He was sure he had been drugged and that the men who had been drinking with him were responsible.

He did not know why.

The tavern he had stopped in was not one that they usually frequented. He remembered going into that tavern with Porthos a couple of times, but not recently. Would his brothers think to ask after him there? Even if he had been seen in the tavern his kidnapping might not have been noticed. He remembered the tavern was busy.

He looked up as the cellar door was pushed open. Several men entered, walking down the stone steps towards him.

D'Artagnan guessed he was about to find out why he had been drugged and taken hostage.

 **Chapter One**

 _A few hours earlier..._

D'Artagnan was glad to be back in the city, despite being brought up in the country he now felt more at home amongst the Parisians. The dirt and grime which he had at times found unpleasant to start with was now normal to him. The people, the variety of people, were always fascinating. He had grown up on a farm, he sometimes did not see strangers for weeks. Now he sometimes did not see anyone he knew for a whole day. But he had grown to love it. Despite its faults, the city was now his home.

The mission he had been on, which he was still on, had been a long and sensitive one. When Treville had called him to his office a fortnight before he had initially wondered why he was going on his own. He had wondered if he had done something wrong and was about to get a dressing down. But no, his Captain was sending him on an important journey. Treville had admitted that d'Artagnan had been chosen over the other inseparables because he was not as recognisable yet. He had not been a Musketeer as long. Athos, Porthos and Aramis were well known in the city and in the town that d'Artagnan was to travel to. Treville needed a man who would not be recognised as easily.

But Treville had made sure that he understood that he was not being picked solely due to his short length of service. Treville was picking d'Artagnan because he was trustworthy. Only one of his best men could be called on for the mission. D'Artagnan had struggled to hide his pride at the compliment. Treville had smiled at him, in that fatherly way that he had.

The intelligence was indeed important and sensitive. So much so that it could not be written down and could only be passed to one man. Treville had intimated that he had considered going himself to collect the information, but he was equally well known and the people who wanted the information would have worked out what he was doing.

The Captain had made sure that d'Artagnan understood the mission was dangerous, but the young Musketeer had accepted the task regardless. He wanted to serve his country and he was a soldier, he faced danger every day.

The journey out had been uneventful, Porthos and Aramis had seen him off with great ceremony, pretending they would never see him again. He had appreciated their antics, lightening the mood. Athos had given him a look that told him to be careful and that he was proud of him.

He had travelled without his uniform, no one paid him any notice. He was just a man travelling through France on business. He was nobody. D'Artagnan had met with the informant and spent some time learning all that he could, memorising everything. The informant had made d'Artagnan recite the information back to him several times before he was satisfied that it would be remembered correctly.

Returning via a different route had taken him through some pleasant countryside. He had wondered for a while what his life would have been like if he had returned to his farm and not stayed in Paris. He had quickly decided that Paris and the Musketeers were better than tending crops.

And now, as he made his way to the Palace where he knew Treville was going to meet him he was glad the mission was coming to an end. He would be glad to pass on the intelligence and be able to return to the garrison and his friends.

The Palace loomed in front of him, the day was bright and warm, d'Artagnan could see courtiers wandering in the grounds as he rode towards the stables. He spotted Treville talking to Porthos and a couple of cadets, they acknowledged him as he passed. Treville broke off and followed d'Artagnan, reaching him as he handed his reins to a stable boy.

'You timed that well,' said the Captain with a smile, 'I have a meeting in thirty minutes, the intelligence you have will be useful.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'where do you want to go?'

'I think out here is fine,' said Treville glancing around, 'let's take a stroll along here, no one will be within earshot without us knowing it.'

D'Artagnan followed his Captain along the open gravelled pathway. Treville checked around himself a couple of times, when he was satisfied they could talk freely, he stopped d'Artagnan and looked at him expectantly.

MMMM

The intelligence passed on, Treville had released d'Artagnan of his duty, telling him he did not expect to see him on duty the next day. It was obvious to Treville that d'Artagnan was tired. The fortnight-long mission had felt longer. Thanking his Captain, d'Artagnan had walked back to the stables. After a brief conversation with the groom there to arrange for his horse to be returned to the garrison once she had been rested, he began to make his own way on foot.

D'Artagnan had been riding for several days and a break from the saddle was welcome. He took his time picking his way through the streets enjoying the smells and continuing to muse on how much he preferred the city to his previous life.

His stomach rumbled reminding him that in his haste to get to the Palace he had not stopped that day to eat. One of the things he enjoyed very much about the city was the availability of food. Some of it was not particularly wholesome but over the time he had been there he had learned how to spot a good tavern. The Hare was one such tavern. He remembered Porthos buying them food there a few months before and finding the hot meal had hit just the right spot to satisfy his craving.

The tavern was situated on the corner of two roads, and d'Artagnan knew it was likely to be busy. But he did not mind, he wanted to be surrounded by people again, even if he did not know them. He pushed his way through the door.

The warmth of the fire and the smell of the food and drink hit him like a tonic. He smiled to himself as he scanned the room for an empty table. There were several groups of people enjoying what was on offer. A group of soldiers from a different garrison were sat together raucously toasting one of their number, who looked a little younger. D'Artagnan guessed the young man had just gained his commission. They were plying the man with wine. D'Artagnan recalled a similar experience after he had been commissioned. Although the details were hazy.

A group of shopkeepers and stallholders were holding court in a corner, they were deeply embroiled in a conversation, one of the men thumped his fist onto the table at one point and his friends responded with shouts of agreement to whatever had been said.

A couple of street women were in the process of luring a couple of men away. The men, in expensive looking doublet's, appeared to have just arrived in the city. D'Artagnan noticed the landlord chuckling as he watched the women mesmerize the naive men.

Finding himself an empty table d'Artagnan sat down with a sigh. A woman appeared at his side with an amiable smile, a tray held at her side, she looked at d'Artagnan expectantly.

'What food have you got on?' he asked.

'Chicken stew, and I think,' she said quietly, 'it actually contains chicken.'

They both smiled, the woman winked at him conspiratorially. The crinkle at the corners of her eyes told him she was genuine with her friendliness, there was no hidden agenda.

'Then I would like some wine and some of your real chicken stew,' said d'Artagnan as he fished out a couple of coin from his money bag. He watched the woman wander away towards a doorway, he guessed leading through to a kitchen. She batted off a couple of men who tried to grab her, leaning down to give one a chaste kiss on the cheek with a smile. The men laughed before returning to their conversation.

D'Artagnan leaned back in his seat and continued to observe the people, smiling as he watched stories unfold in front of him. The two street women led the travellers away. One of them threw a smile towards the tavern keeper who nodded back in return. He already had the men's money, what they did next was not his concern. The soldiers continued to drink, the merchants continued to talk animatedly.

'I wonder, if we might join you?'

D'Artagnan looked up at the man who had spoken to him. The man was a little older than him and wearing plain, but not inexpensive clothes. Stood with him were four other men. The table d'Artagnan was sat at would easily accommodate them all. D'Artagnan nodded to the vacant seats around him.

'We won't disturb you, monsieur, I doubt you get many chances to relax with a good meal.'

The man nodded towards d'Artagnan's pauldron, which he had been pleased to put back on when he had left the Palace.

'A little company would not go amiss,' replied d'Artagnan. 'I've been away from the city for a few days...I've actually missed the...chaos.'

The men chuckled.

One of the other men, an older man, missing a tooth asked, 'what have you been doing?'

D'Artagnan hesitated. The man noticed and spoke again.

'The King's business,' he said, 'we won't pry.'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'what do you all do?'

Keen to move the conversation away from his recent mission d'Artagnan decided to get the men talking, instead of them asking him questions. Despite enjoying talking about his soldiering he could not talk about his mission.

'We're working on a big house; the owner wants it decorated for his return from travelling. I think it's the only time any of us would be able to stay in a place so grand, despite the fact there's little furniture and we're sleeping on the floor,' said the first man.

D'Artagnan nodded. The woman returned with his wine and food, she lay the bowl in front of him and poured his first cup of wine. She looked at the other men.

'What can I get you boys?' she said with a coquettish grin.

'That looks good,' said one of the other men pointing at d'Artagnan's food.

D'Artagnan nodded his agreement as he took his first mouthful. The serving woman smiled.

'For all of you?' she asked.

The men nodded. The woman disappeared to get their food.

D'Artagnan continued to enjoy his stew as he listened to the men talking about the work they were doing on the big house. He did not really understand what they were talking about, building and restoration were not something he was particularly interested in. But the company was welcome, just listening to mundane everyday things was a change to the silence and stillness of the last few days riding through the countryside.

As the evening wore on the men ordered more wine and continued to talk, they poured wine for d'Artagnan and included him in the conversation. They began to ask him about the skirmishes he had been in and tried to extract any Palace scandal he might have. He had gladly talked about his soldiering but had declined to pass on any scandal. They had laughed at his reply and poured more wine.

D'Artagnan knew he should stop drinking with the men and get back to the garrison, but his thoughts were becoming woolly. He blinked a few times as the fatigue of the last few days caught up with him. A moment of clarity told him he should leave the men to it.

He managed to stand, pushing his chair back across the floor, he said his goodbyes and thanked the men for the wine and conversation. They returned the thanks and went back to their conversations. D'Artagnan began to make his way towards the door, hoping the cool air of the evening would help to sober him up a little; it would not be becoming for a Musketeer to be stumbling through the city on his own.

D'Artagnan did not remember reaching the door of the tavern.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Porthos watched a couple of cadets walk through the garrison gate, they nodded a greeting to him and wandered off to the mess for breakfast. Porthos had hoped to see d'Artagnan appear in the yard full of tales of his mission and no doubt a little self-importance at being given the work. But the young Musketeer was nowhere to be seen.

Casting his eyes over the yard Porthos wondered if his friend had appeared and he had just not noticed. The two cadets were disappearing through the door to the mess as three commissioned men appeared from the sleeping quarters and made their way out into the city. Porthos nodded a greeting to them before returning to his own work.

His horse snorted and nodded his head as the brush was drawn across his flank. Porthos talked quietly to the beast as he worked pausing occasionally to look at the gate. Sometimes he was sure they all had a sixth sense; a notion that something was not quite right kept surfacing in his mind. They had all at one time or another stopped the others and forewarned them of an impending danger. Porthos felt that way as he continued to brush his horse, teasing out a few knots in his mane.

D'Artagnan should have been back the previous night. They knew he had returned to Paris; knew he had passed on the intelligence to Treville and knew he should have been making his way back to the garrison. But he was a grown man, Treville had said that d'Artagnan had been given a days' leave, so they should not expect him for muster, but still, Porthos wondered why he had that feeling.

He shook his head; the young man was quite capable of looking after himself. Perhaps he had slipped off to see Constance, perhaps he had another woman somewhere, one that he had not told them about? Was Porthos worrying unnecessarily?

Porthos thought back to the day they had seen d'Artagnan off on his secret mission, so secret that even they were not allowed to know what was going on. It had not taken much to realise d'Artagnan was going because Treville thought that one of them would be recognised. He and Aramis had teased d'Artagnan, but both had been pleased the young Musketeer was getting an important mission. The boost to his self-confidence would be good. Athos had remained stoic as usual, but they had seen the hidden smile. Athos was proud of d'Artagnan, the lanky lad that had called him out for a duel was now one of them and quite capable of dealing with an important mission of his own.

They had already been through quite a lot together; their bond was strong. Porthos knew that any of them would die for d'Artagnan and that d'Artagnan would gladly lay down his own life for them. That brotherhood was hard won. D'Artagnan was truly one of them.

Except he was not one of them at that moment. And Porthos did not like not knowing where his friend, his brother, was. Perhaps he was still treating the man as a boy? Porthos shrugged his shoulders and went back to brushing his horse realising he had stopped again and was staring at the gate.

But the feeling of something being amiss remained.

MMMM

He slowly opened his eyes. There was not much to see. A stone floor stretched in front of him. His head was resting on the floor. The floor was cold. D'Artagnan thought about moving but quite a lot of him hurt.

A slight pull on his arms told him that his wrists were tied behind him, the rope wound around his forearms a little, pulling his shoulders back.

With an effort, he managed to move his head slightly, although his vision seemed a little behind the rest of him. The room became blurred for several seconds, the focus gradually returning as he stopped his movement. He wondered if he should try to sit up. The thought of such a big move after the simple task of moving his head had affected him so much was not something he wanted to contemplate.

Instead, he decided to try to work out how he had come to be tied up in what he guessed was a cellar. The slightly dank damp smell told him he was underground. There was light. The flicker of flames licked at the stone floor and walls in front of him. Either a fire or torches lit the room. D'Artagnan was in no mood to find out which.

He tried to think what had happened to him. He remembered the tavern, remembered it was busy, remembered sharing his table with some friendly men who were renovating a big house…

Something made him pause and look at the room he was in again. The cellar was big, big enough to belong to a big house.

No. What would the men he shared food and wine with want with him? What would they have gained from taking him as their captive? He was not worth anything, he was a soldier, no one would pay for his release…

A tiny niggling thought occurred to him. The intelligence.

But what would builders have wanted with the intelligence he still had? He had passed it on to Treville, but he did still remember every word of it.

Putting the thought to one side d'Artagnan decided he did need to sit up. He took a breath and tensed up. He twisted over onto his back and pulled himself upwards at the same time. Closing his eyes did nothing to dispel the sickening twisting in his stomach. He was glad he had not been gagged, if he was sick it would not be pleasant with a gag.

He slumped to the side, hitting the stone wall of the cellar. He was panting, leaning his throbbing head against the cool stone wall.

D'Artagnan did not know how long he spent simply sitting, uncomfortably, panting and wishing the nausea to leave him. It felt as though there was water sploshing in his head, washing his thoughts from side to side. He could not catch a single thought and keep hold of it long enough to put it with another thought and work out what was going on.

When everything had settled down again, he opened his eyes. Two flaming torches were placed on the wall, the torches were new. Someone had replaced them recently. A table stood against the wall under the torches. D'Artagnan could make out items on the table. His doublet and weapons lay on the table.

His weapons were there, a few feet away from him. But they might as well have been on the moon. The concept of standing or even shuffling himself across to them was not something he could even consider.

Slowly he turned his head and took in the rest of the room. A set of stone steps led to a heavy looking door opposite him. High up on the wall opposite the torches was a dirty window. He doubted he would see anything through it.

How long had he been here? Had he been missed yet?

If it was the next day, Treville would have noticed him missing. But would a search be mounted for him? Probably not, he was not expected for work until the day after that. They might think he had gone to see Constance. They might not realise he was in trouble.

D'Artagnan was on his own.

MMMM

Aramis reached out and straightened the cadet's arm and lifted his chin a little before stepping back and nodding. The young man took a steady breath before firing. Aramis looked at the target for a few seconds and smiled. He turned back to the cadet who was looking at him with apprehension.

'Better than earlier,' he said, 'just watch your position. I know you won't have time to worry about that sort of thing in battle but with calm repetitive practice now it will come naturally, you won't even know you're doing it.'

The cadet nodded and started to reload the musket.

'Keep at it,' he said with a friendly slap on the man's shoulder before wandering back to the garrison yard the sound of the musket being fired again making him smile as he walked.

Treville was stood at the bottom of the steps gazing at the gate a look of concern on his face. Mid-morning, after muster, usually saw the Captain disappearing into his office or leaving for the Palace.

Aramis could guess what was bothering his Captain. D'Artagnan.

Porthos had been preoccupied with the missing Musketeer earlier on and Athos had even asked the other Musketeers and cadets if he had been seen the previous evening. No one had seen him.

'Still no sign then?' asked Aramis.

Treville shook his head without taking his eyes off the garrison gate.

'I'd hoped he would not come to harm with this mission. I picked him on purpose because I knew that one of you three would have been expected to go...and you would have been recognised.'

'Was the intelligence that sensitive that even after it has been passed on it still holds value?'

Treville nodded, 'the meeting I had after I spoke to d'Artagnan means that the intelligence is being acted upon, but if it can be obtained quickly enough it will still prove useful to the right people...or the wrong people.'

Treville finally turned to look at Aramis before continuing.

'I should have had him escorted back to the garrison, I should have taken precautions...he must have been recognised as a Musketeer when he went to the rendezvous.'

Athos and Porthos appeared from the armoury ending their conversation as they reached the stairs.

'...I think we should look elsewhere,' said Athos.

'And I still say we don't need outside help yet.'

'Look elsewhere for what?' asked Treville.

'He wants to talk to one of his contacts, see if anyone has seen d'Artagnan.'

Aramis furrowed his brow, 'are we really at that point? He's not even been missing a day yet, and you said that he was not needed today.'

'He's not with Constance,' said Athos.

Aramis looked at Athos for a few seconds taking in the information. He had assumed the young Musketeer would take advantage of a rare day off to visit Constance. Aramis started to realise that the worry that Treville, Athos, and Porthos had for d'Artagnan was not necessarily premature.

'I'll kill him if he's done something stupid,' Porthos said after a few moments, 'making us worry about him.'

Aramis smiled, 'we will make sure he is suitably told off for making you worry, my friend.'

'At the very least I'm going to give him a good talking too,' said Porthos with an annoyed shake of his head.

'We need to find him first,' remarked Athos.

Treville looked thoughtful, 'I think Athos is right, we should be concerned. I hope we are wrong, but we should be sure. If something has happened to him, we need to recover him quickly.'

Athos nodded before turning to leave, 'I will visit my contact and see what I can learn.'

Aramis watched him go as the feeling of unease that Porthos had talked about began to take its grip on him as well.

MMMM

The door at the top of the stairs opened, d'Artagnan tried to focus on the men who entered, but the movement of his head to look in their direction had left him feeling nauseous again. Nothing was said by the men. He thought he could make out five men walking towards him. One of them peeled off from the others and crossed to the table where his weapons lay, the man grabbed a chair carrying it towards him.

As d'Artagnan managed to focus again he recognised the men. He had already guessed it was the group of men who had befriended him in the tavern so was not surprised when the man who had first spoken to him was the one who had picked up the chair.

The chair was placed down a couple of feet from him as two of the other men stepped up to him. D'Artagnan could do nothing to resist the men, they hooked their hands under his arms and hauled him up. The sudden movement saw a greyness reach his vision. D'Artagnan was sure he was going to pass out. There were words being spoken around him, he had no idea what the men were saying or if they were talking to him or not. He could not respond, all he could do was try to stay conscious.

He was aware of being moved to sit on the chair, his arms pushed over the back of the chair. The men let go of him. Somehow, he remained sat on the chair, his head bowed. D'Artagnan knew there was no chance of him raising his head for a while. The room was spinning, he was back to taking quick breaths.

The men stepped back from him. D'Artagnan guessed they were waiting for him to recover his wits, he was more than happy to take his time. The men began to talk to one another, their words making more sense to him as he started to settle himself after the sudden movement.

D'Artagnan recognised one of the men as the man who had spoken to him the most in the tavern.

'Give him a few minutes, I think the drug is still affecting him. He'll be disorientated. Get some water into him. Then we can start.'

'You gave him too much,' said another man.

Another voice d'Artagnan recognised as the man with the missing tooth replied, 'I gave him the right amount. He's trained, he'd have been more trouble if I'd given him any less.'

The man missing the tooth seemed quite defensive of his actions, almost annoyed at the accusation that he might have made a mistake when he administered the drug to d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan wondered what would happen if he got out of his current predicament. When the others found out he had allowed himself to be taken so easily, would they still accept him as one of them? The friendships he had built up with the three men he thought of as brothers were strong; could it survive his woeful mistake?

As his breathing settled, he finally decided he had to lift his head, he took his time, trying to prevent the room from spinning. He looked at the men stood around the room.

The toothless man was regarding him carefully, perhaps wanting to satisfy himself that their captive had not been given too much of whatever drug they had used.

The leader, the man who had first spoken to him, was stood back a couple of yards, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The other men were arranged around the room, two of them were by the table, one leaning on the wall, the other looking at d'Artagnan's doublet. The fifth man had remained further away, d'Artagnan watched as the man took a couple of steps back and sat on the steps observing the proceedings. D'Artagnan got the impression the man was not part of the group.

He refocused on the leader who took a step forward, crouching down in front of him.

'I'm guessing you want to know why you are here…'

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to speak but ended up coughing, the thump of his headache adding to his misery.

A hand on the back of his head made him flinch, his breathing speeding up again.

'Drink some water,' said the man calmly.

A cup was put to his lips, d'Artagnan considered not drinking but suspected he would be forced if he refused. He allowed the man to help him drink the water. Once his thirst was slaked the cup was removed.

'What did you give me?' he finally managed to ask.

'Oh, a mix of things to make you compliant. You allowed us to bring you here without too much trouble. It should be wearing off by now, you will be clear-headed soon.'

'I've got nothing to tell-'

'Oh, I think we both know there is no point in you pretending you do not have the intelligence,' said the man.

D'Artagnan did not respond, his mind raced ahead to what was going to happen. He could not give up the information. He would have to endure whatever the men did to him. D'Artagnan quickly convinced himself he was going to die. No one would miss him for several hours, and then how would they know where to start looking for him? He guessed that his abduction had been done in such a way that no attention was drawn to it happening.

He watched the leader walk across to the table, he picked up something and held it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. D'Artagnan tried to mentally prepare himself for the pain that was to come. He knew it was inevitable.

'If you tell us what you learned, what you passed on to your Captain at the Palace, we will make this easy on you.'

'You know I can't,' d'Artagnan managed to say as he eyed the man's clenched fist, the metal that looped around his fingers looked as though it would prove painful and possibly persuasive.

'As you wish…'

The man stood firmly in front of him, planting his feet ready for what he was about to do. D'Artagnan focused on him for a few seconds, his breathing again speeding up. The two men who had been lingering by the table moved to stand behind him, one of them had hold of his shoulders to keep him still.

D'Artagnan's head snapped to the side as the man struck him across the cheek, the metal adding more force to the punch, the spinning and nausea returned to him with a vengeance. He was sure the metal had dug into his face, he was probably not just bruised by the punch.

'Tell us and we will make your death quick and painless.'

D'Artagnan managed to turn his head back and glared at the man. The man shook his head slightly, almost regretfully.

The second punch was aimed at his chest, catching him on the right side, he bent forward as much as he was allowed. The position pulled at his arms and shoulders, he panted trying to catch his breath.

He knew it was going to get a lot worse before he stopped feeling anything. But he was determined he would not talk. The man holding him pulled him straight again, his head tipped back slightly. The leader had taken a step back and was looking at him with a quizzical expression.

D'Artagnan made eye contact and shook his head. He was not going to be so easily forced to talk.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Athos walked with purpose, he could not afford to miss his contact. Ruiz would be by the steps at the side of the warehouse for a few minutes. If Athos did not arrive before he left he would not see the man for another week.

Ruiz had come to Athos' attention a couple of years before. The man had been stealing bread. Athos had caught him in the act and dragged him away, towards the Chatelet. The man had begged him to be lenient, saying that he was desperate. Athos had shaken his head and continued to force the wiry man towards the prison and an almost certain doom. There had been complaints that the man had been stealing not only bread but money and more expensive items from the market. It was obvious that the man was stealing to order. The bread was for himself, but the other items were sold on for profit.

The man had continued to resist Athos, offering him money and goods in exchange for his freedom. It was not until the man had offered to give him information about a group of men who were attacking young women that Athos paused and pushed the man into a wall holding him firmly. Athos had asked what Ruiz knew, Ruiz had asked what he would get in return.

The arrangement had begun at that point. If Athos needed Ruiz to get him information about the nefarious people of Paris, he would meet the man at the designated spot. Ruiz would wait for ten minutes. If Athos did not appear Ruiz would leave and return the next day.

Athos had found the man's information to be consistently sound. The Musketeers had benefited on more than one occasion from Ruiz's lack of honour to his fellow underclasses.

Ruiz was there, as he was every week. The man, wearing a tatty blue doublet which did not match his dark green breeches, looked up as Athos approached. His scraggly, greasy, hair fell limply over his shoulders.

When he saw Athos approach, he pushed himself away from the wall and took a couple of steps towards him. He looked apprehensive, but he always looked apprehensive, thought Athos.

The area was busy, no one paid them any attention.

'I need you to find someone for me,' began Athos.

Ruiz nodded, 'I'll need a description and an idea where he might be.'

Athos glanced around before continuing, 'have you seen me with a young Musketeer? Dark hair, lithe, doesn't wear a hat.'

Ruiz nodded. Athos sighed inwardly, he wondered if Treville's opinion that d'Artagnan would not be known as a soldier had been misplaced. If Ruiz knew who he meant, others would as well.

'I heard a rumour,' said Ruiz without missing a beat, 'that a soldier had been sought and taken…'

'Taken?'

'Yeah, last night, from The Hare...I might know where they took him…'

Ruiz looked at Athos expectantly. Athos reached for his money bag.

MMMM

D'Artagnan spat out the blood from his mouth, he wished they would give him some more water, but none had been offered. The man had continued to hit him at a calculated pace for some time. He would strike d'Artagnan then wait until he had recovered enough to respond to the question. When d'Artagnan did not respond he would be hit again.

D'Artagnan did not think he had any broken ribs yet, but he was sore and bruised across his face, chest and stomach. If he were to get out of his predicament, he would be no use to anyone for several days.

But he did not think he would get out of his predicament. If he was released, he would alert Treville that the information was being hunted down, actions would be taken to protect everyone who had the information until such time that it became irrelevant. D'Artagnan knew the intelligence would be useless after a few days which meant the men who had him had to extract it from him quickly if they were to act on it. D'Artagnan knew his ordeal would be short, which, he thought, was some consolation.

He managed to lift his head as his breathing settled again. He noted that the men in the room had changed. The leader and the toothless man were still there but the other three had left and two different men had returned. D'Artagnan had no idea how many men were involved but it was clearly enough to watch the house they were in. Any rescue attempt was likely to meet with resistance.

Again, d'Artagnan wondered if any rescue attempt would be made. Would they be soon enough? He felt guilty, his friends would risk their lives only to find his beaten corpse. D'Artagnan had let them down, they had accepted him, and he had let them down.

The leader and the toothless man had walked off a few paces and were talking quietly, d'Artagnan could not make out what they were saying, he watched them through half-open eyes. The toothless man was looking over every so often, he appeared to be studying him. D'Artagnan found his gaze to be quite piercing. The leader seemed to be encouraging the toothless man. The man nodded before walking from the room, his footsteps echoing around the otherwise silent room.

The leader turned to d'Artagnan, 'I've decided to take pity on you. You are clearly a dedicated man and wish to protect your country...which is admirable.'

D'Artagnan had no idea what the man was going on about, but the disappearance of the toothless man worried him.

'Beating you is getting us nowhere, and we need the information, to that end we are going to try a different tactic.'

D'Artagnan just looked at the man, he wondered if the pain he was in was clouding his comprehension. But the respite from being beaten was welcome.

MMMM

Athos had returned after a couple of hours; his contact had given them the information he needed. Porthos and Aramis had sat and listened intently to what Athos had told them.

The contact had heard that d'Artagnan had been taken by a group of men the previous evening from The Hare. The man who saw what happened had been with his friends in the tavern. They had seen a Musketeer who had initially been sat alone joined by several strangers. The strangers had taken an interest in the soldier, they had bought him drinks and after the young Musketeer had made to leave had assisted him when it became apparent that he had drunk too much.

D'Artagnan had been seen surrounded by the men who were helping him along the road. He had not been seen after that. But Athos' contact had recognised the description of the men who were with d'Artagnan. He knew they were staying at a large house in an affluent area of the city that they were renovating. The contact did not know why the men may have taken d'Artagnan.

'He don't drink that much,' said Porthos, 'I know we've got him drunk occasionally, but he'd have been careful.'

Aramis nodded, 'drugged, do we think?' he suggested. 'In the wine...seems the most likely way they got him into that state.'

Athos nodded, 'a fair assumption. It seems whoever took him has several men. It will take a few of us to deal with the situation-'

'I'm afraid that won't be possible,' said Treville who had appeared behind Porthos.

He looked around ensuring they were alone before continuing.

'As I said yesterday the information is very sensitive. The fewer men the better. In fact, I'm going to have to insist that it is just the three of you. No one else knows how sensitive the information is.'

Porthos turned to his Captain, 'are you implying that d'Artagnan's life is not worth as much as the intelligence?'

Treville looked down for a few seconds with a sigh, 'for the next couple of days the intelligence is more important than any of us.'

The three Musketeers looked at each other for a few seconds, taking in the information. Their friend's life was at stake and they were the only ones who were able to save him.

'I will relieve the three of you from duty, deal with this. We'll be ready for your return...with d'Artagnan.'

Treville made eye contact with each of them before walking away. Porthos watched him go, knowing the man did not like having to dictate how little their lives mattered on occasion.

'We will leave within ten minutes,' said Athos decisively as he rose from the table.

MMMM

As they approached the house from the front, they scanned the windows, no light shone from any. Aramis indicated that they should move to the back of the property. Quietly they walked around, keeping to the shadows. The house was big with extensive gardens at the back. Their first worry was the potential for men to be patrolling the grounds.

Athos split off from them and looped around the gardens slowly, as Aramis and Porthos continued along the side of the property. Porthos grabbed Aramis' arm and pointed down. Aramis looked where Porthos indicated and saw the small window. A slither of light flickered through the dirt caped glass.

They crouched beside the window, Aramis rubbed at the glass with his gloved finger, pushing the dirt away. He bent closer and peered through. The sight that greeted him was not unsurprising, but it still came as a shock.

D'Artagnan was sat on a chair at the far end of the room, a man was stood in front of him. Aramis could make out the man's hand was bloody, probably from hitting d'Artagnan. The unfortunate Musketeer was bloody and bruised. It was clear he had been beaten. There were bruises across his face and his shirt was dirty, showing flecks of blood in places. D'Artagnan was slumped, he was making no effort to sit upright, if his arms were not hooked over the back of the chair, Aramis was sure the man would have simply crumpled to the floor.

Apart from the man stood in front of d'Artagnan there were two other men in the cellar. All three captors looked capable of putting up a fight, they were all armed and looked fit.

Aramis sat back and indicated for Porthos to look. After a few seconds, Porthos looked up.

'He don't look good.'

'I know, we need to get him out, every man has his limit and he looks close. They've not held back on him.'

Porthos leaned back to the window and continued to watch for a few moments.

'Another man's just turned up, he's carrying a cup...they're...they're forcing d'Artagnan to drink it.'

Porthos allowed Aramis to have another look.

'More drugs do you think?'

Porthos shrugged his shoulders. They both looked across as Athos re-joined them. Aramis pointed at the window. Athos took a few moments to look at the room where d'Artagnan was being held.

'I dealt with three patrolling men,' he said when he had seen enough, 'I think the sooner we liberate our friend the better.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan watched the toothless man approach him with a cup. The man had carefully carried the cup down the stone steps and across the floor. Even with his fuzzy mind, d'Artagnan could work out what was in the cup. It was not just water; the cup contained another drug and they wanted him to drink it. D'Artagnan decided he would have to resist the men this time.

'We will force it into you,' said the leader, 'just drink it and save us all the trouble.'

D'Artagnan managed a glare, at least he hoped he had, he was not sure if his bruised and no doubt swollen face was capable of expressions at that moment.

The other two men moved to stand next to him, at a nod from the leader they stepped forward and grabbed him. One man had an arm firmly around his shoulders, the other had crouched down and was keeping his legs still and anchoring him to the spot. D'Artagnan was not able to move. The leader stepped to the side of him and held his head, tipping him back slightly, his hand pulling at his jaw, forcing him to open his mouth.

D'Artagnan tried to pull away, tried to turn his head, tried to keep his mouth shut, but he could not do anything. The toothless man advanced, an evil humour about his eyes. The cup was brought to his lips, d'Artagnan continued to resist but could not prevent the liquid from being tipped into his mouth. He spluttered and tried not to swallow, but despite choking and coughing he knew a fair amount of the drug had gone into him and would affect him.

He had no idea what the drug was going to do to him, were they actually just killing him? Would it be painful? Would he just fall asleep and never wake up?

Once the cup was empty the men let him go, he leaned forward as much as he could and coughed. The assault had left him breathless, it took him several minutes to calm his breathing, the men stood back and left him to it. He wondered how long the drug would take to affect him?

He lifted his head and looked at the leader who was stood in front of him, the man seemed to be out of focus, d'Artagnan blinked a few times but the man just swayed from side to side. D'Artagnan narrowed his eyes trying to get him into focus but nothing seemed to work. The leader was smiling, he turned to the toothless man who was equally out of focus and said something, the toothless man let out a cackle before stepping away.

The leader turned back to d'Artagnan and smiled. He stepped forward and crouched down, d'Artagnan managed to swing his head up to look at the man.

The man lay his hand on d'Artagnan's knee.

'Now, are you ready to talk to us? I think you are...start from the beginning...what did you have to keep secret?'

D'Artagnan looked at the man for a few seconds before he began to speak. Something in him told him not to, but the man had asked, and he had to answer. Why was he telling the man? It did not seem right.

And yet he continued to speak, the man patted his knee a few times and smiled nodding occasionally. There was the odd word of encouragement. D'Artagnan continued to speak.

Continued to tell the man all the intelligence. He should stop. It was secret.

But he could not.

MMMM

'If he has been drugged, the chances are he has talked,' said Porthos with a grim expression.

Athos nodded, 'we can only hope he has not told them everything…'

Aramis was watching the men through the window again, they had seen d'Artagnan try to fight the effects of the drug and fail, they had watched him talk with the leading man giving him gentle encouragement. The man's behaviour at odds with the violence they had used on their friend to administer the drug and the obvious violence they had used on d'Artagnan in their failed attempt to get him to talk earlier.

Porthos lay his hand on Aramis' shoulder drawing his attention to the front of the house. Several men were approaching. The three Musketeers quickly moved away and secreted themselves amongst the unkempt hedges surrounding the garden.

The men, at least a dozen, walked towards the front of the house. They were all armed and walking with purpose. Aramis guessed they had been told that the captive was giving up the information and they were arriving to be given orders. The men looked as though they had been soldiers. They were probably mercenaries, Aramis doubted the men really cared about what they were doing, they were interested in the money they were going to receive.

But they did look like capable fighters. Where there had been an easily manageable amount of men with d'Artagnan before, now the Musketeers would have their work cut out retrieving their brother.

The men entered the house, the door closing quietly behind them. They were not a raucous band of fighters, they were clearly professional in their work. They may have been beyond the law but they were taking their work seriously.

Athos nudged Aramis and pointed back towards the window, Aramis nodded and crept back to observe what was going on.

The men had all reached the cellar and filed down the steps. Aramis looked across to d'Artagnan who was watching the men, his head lolloping slightly. He looked at the leader who had been talking to one of the newcomers and said something. Whatever d'Artagnan said to the leader must have annoyed him, as he took a step back to the captive man and punched him hard.

D'Artagnan, who was no longer being held by any of the men, was knocked from the chair. He fell hard to the floor smaking his head onto the stone floor. Aramis winced in sympathy. His friend remained still, where he had fallen, unconscious.

The leader paid no more attention to d'Artagnan, the man was obviously of no further use to them. After a few more words to the newly arrived men, the leader and the other three men who had been in the cellar left, climbing up the steps and closing the door behind them.

Aramis moved back to the hedge to report what he had seen. As he reached Athos and Porthos the leader and his men left the house and moved off along the road out of sight.

'There are a dozen men in the cellar now. D'Artagnan is being ignored, I'm fairly sure he is unconscious, it's impossible to tell what other injuries he may have.'

'We cannot wait,' said Athos after a moments thought, 'we need to know how much he has told them, it might affect the plans Treville made yesterday.'

Porthos nodded, 'if we go in hard and fast, take them by surprise, we'll be fine.'

'Give your second gun to Aramis,' said Athos as he did the same. 'You take out as many as you can when we get in there. Porthos, get d'Artagnan out and away.'

Porthos was about to protest but Aramis stopped him, 'Athos is right, d'Artagnan is the priority, we need to get him safe. If he hasn't told them everything yet there's a chance they will have a second go at him.'

Aramis watched as Porthos inwardly wrestled with the idea of leaving him and Athos behind, after a couple of seconds he reluctantly nodded.

'Just get him out, if he's conscious just force him out, whatever they drugged him with might make him confused or combative. I'd rather he have another couple of bruises and be safe than have him try to help us fight the men,' said Aramis.

Aramis watched as Athos checked his weapons were all in the right place, Porthos was doing the same, he knew they had to be ready for anything once they were in the house. They were on their own.

Athos looked at his brothers, 'let's go and get him back.'

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: Thanks for the lovely comments.**

Chapter Four

D'Artagnan could not understand how he had given up the intelligence so easily. He had failed in his task. The sensitive information was now in the hands of the men who had taken him captive. If he was not killed by them, he would not be able to return to the garrison, to his Captain. He felt ashamed at his inability to carry out his mission.

His mind and vision were still foggy, the leader had stepped away from him and was talking to the toothless man. D'Artagnan could not make out what they were saying. The two men who had held him still had gone back to the table and were waiting for orders.

D'Artagnan guessed they would kill him, he wondered why they had not done so already, he had told them everything. There was no point in keeping him alive any longer. They could not let him go. He hoped they would kill him quickly, put him out of his misery, he did not deserve a quick death after giving up the information, but he hoped for one all the same.

The heavy cellar door was pushed open again. The leader and the toothless man looked up. D'Artagnan could make out several men entering, he could not make out any detail about them, they were just unfocused shapes.

One of the newcomers walked up to the leader and spoke to him, they glanced at d'Artagnan a few times. The other men spread themselves around the room, d'Artagnan caught the odd glint of metal, the men were all armed.

D'Artagnan decided he may as well annoy his captors a little before they killed him, he managed a smirk as he pulled his head up to stare at the leader.

'You know I lied…' he said.

'What?' said the leader breaking off his conversation with the other man.

'Some of what I said it was a lie.'

None of what d'Artagnan had said was a lie, he had told the men everything, but just sowing the seed of doubt in the men's mind was greatly satisfying to d'Artagnan.

'You did not lie,' said the leader, 'what we gave you makes you incapable of lying.'

'Are you sure?'

The leader stepped back up to him. D'Artagnan was sure his time had come. He stared at the man. The leader drew back his fist and punched d'Artagnan hard enough for him to fall from the chair he was still sat on and crash to the floor.

MMMM

The plan in place, despite Porthos' misgivings, the three Musketeers approached the front of the house. Aramis paused at the door and tried the handle, it was locked, he looked back at Porthos and tilted his head with a smile.

'We need your skills, my friend,' he said quietly as he stepped to the side.

Porthos crouched in front of the door and went to work on the lock. Athos was keeping an eye on the street. They had not seen many people passing, the wealthy area quiet as the evening wore on.

The door swung open as Porthos stood up, he stepped through, closely followed by Aramis and Athos, who closed the door behind him. Aramis led them across a hallway. The renovations to the house obvious. The men's cover story of working on the house was being maintained. Aramis wondered if it was the mercenaries themselves who were doing the work or if they were employing real builders? Dust sheets covered the few items of furniture with a breeze causing some to billow slightly. Aramis watched them carefully, there was always a chance that sentries could have been posted around the house. They hoped that all the men were in the cellar, but they had to remain vigilant.

Several doors led off the hallway, all were open except one which was plainer than the others. Aramis reached it and paused listening, he could hear muffled conversations from within, he turned to the others and nodded.

Each man took up his position. Athos was to lead them in with Porthos following. Aramis took each man's second gun and looked them over, he knew they would be primed and ready to fire but years of experience had him check the guns without realising. Athos looked at him for a second before looking at Porthos. Both men nodded that they were ready.

Athos slowly opened the door, it was heavy, he needed to push firmly but it soon opened onto the cellar, the flickering light revealing the gathered men and the prone form of their brother lying at the far end of the room.

It took them a few seconds, but all eyes were soon on the Musketeers.

Aramis raised the first gun, he sighted the closest man and fired as Athos rushed down the steps closely followed by Porthos. The man Aramis had shot had been reaching for his own gun, one of only a few of the men to be armed with guns. Aramis intended to take those men out first before taking on the men with his sword.

Athos was already engaged in a fight with two men and Porthos was making his way across the floor, he shot one man who approached him and had quickly flipped the spent weapon to deal with a second.

Aramis spotted another man rushing towards Porthos, not wanting his friend to be further distracted, Aramis fired his second gun, killing the man instantly. As he descended the steps two men came towards him, Aramis did as Porthos had done, he flipped one of the spent guns in his hand and clubbed the first man to reach him. The sword the man had been swinging towards his side still hit Aramis, but the force had gone, the blade simply pushed against the leather of his doublet as the man collapsed to the ground. Aramis threw the gun at the second man distracting him long enough for his sword to be drawn and thrust towards the man. The man, wearing a neat jacket which looked expensive, managed to dodge out of the way of Aramis' sword. Aramis realised he was dealing with a trained man and was soon embroiled in an intense sword fight.

Jumping to the side he knocked into a man who had been trying to load one of the spent guns. The man turned to Aramis and tried to grab him, Aramis was forced to push the man away.

In the same moment Aramis looked across the room, Porthos was busy gathering up the unconscious d'Artagnan, none of the fighting men seemed to have noticed. They were busy fighting either himself or Athos on the other side of the room. The plan was working, if Porthos could get away with d'Artagnan, he and Athos could concentrate on dealing with the mercenaries without having to worry about their young friend as well.

Athos was busy fighting two men, a third lay on the floor clutching weakly at his chest as a pool of blood spread beneath him. Athos' attention was being kept on the two men he was currently fighting. Aramis noticed a man rushing up to Athos from behind him, the man was wielding a knife, his intent clear.

Distracted for a few seconds by his own fight Aramis could not help Athos, he yelled a warning, but Athos did not react. Aramis realised he had to deal with the men he was fighting with first. With renewed purpose Aramis sliced at the trained man who was forced to step back a few paces, the second man tried to grab him again, Aramis managed to twist around and push his sword into the man's side letting the man fall limply to the floor.

Wrenching his last loaded weapon from his belt Aramis raised the weapon and fired. His aim was true, the man who had been about to stab Athos in the back collapsed to the ground the knife still in his hand.

But Aramis realised with shock, the ball from the gun had not only hit the man; it had hit Athos as well. His friend had moved slightly at the same instant that Aramis had fired.

Aramis had shot Athos.

MMMM

He had grabbed the unconscious Musketeer amid the sounds of gunshots and clashing swords. He had heard Aramis yelling at Athos to 'get down' at one point. Porthos wondered what had happened but could not dwell on the thought. They had agreed. Porthos' only job was to get d'Artagnan out. Get him out and get him away. Get him back to the garrison.

The younger man had been lying, slumped in the corner of the room. One man had put up some resistance, but Porthos had dealt with him swiftly. The gun spent he had used it as a club on another man who approached him.

Athos and Aramis were clearly playing their part of the plan to the letter. No more men attacked him. A cursory check of d'Artagnan told Porthos that he had been knocked out. A graze to his forehead and an already darkening bruise telling the rescuer all he needed to know.

With no time to check d'Artagnan for any other injuries, Porthos pulled the unconscious man up to a sitting position before bending and pulling him up and over his shoulder.

Porthos rose to his feet and turned. He saw that both his brothers were engaged in sword fights with the remaining enemy men. But the plan meant that Porthos had to leave them to it. They had all agreed, getting d'Artagnan back was the priority. But Porthos did not like the plan despite it being the best one they had. Reluctantly he carried his brother passed the fighting men.

He climbed the steps carefully and paused at the door for a second. His hesitation was short, he had to follow the plan. He pulled the door open and without looking back left his brothers fighting in the cellar, they were outnumbered, there was a good chance one or both of them would be injured or killed. But Porthos had to get d'Artagnan away. It was vital to find out what the man had told his captives.

Crossing the hallway Porthos reached the front door of the property, he opened the door and after a cursory check up and down the road, he stepped out into the night.

MMMM

Athos had glanced across as Porthos pulled d'Artagnan up to carry him out. At least that part of the plan was going well. He was annoyed that the two men he was fighting were quite as good as they were. They were making him work. What he needed was for one of them to make a mistake, particularly as he could see a third man on the periphery who clearly wanted to get involved but did not want to crowd the two men who were already fighting.

Aramis had taken out a few of the men, he had kept the men from getting too close as they entered the cellar and had seen to it that Porthos went largely unmolested. A quick glance across the room had told Athos that the marksman was now using his skills with the sword instead. There had been a yell from Aramis, but Athos had not been able to tell what he had shouted.

One of the men in front of him made the mistake he had been waiting for, he swung his arm too wide leaving himself open to a thrust from Athos' main gauche. The parrying dagger penetrated deeply into the man's chest, the lung was most likely pierced, it would be an uncomfortable death for the man. Athos had no time to feel pity as the third man was already stepping into the affray and making Athos work again. The two men who had been trained well worked in unison, it took all of Athos' skills to keep them at bay.

Athos felt the ball from a gun graze across the side of his arm. The injury was slight, not enough to slow his fight. The shot from one of the men in the cellar had not been accurate enough to stop him. The injury stung but did not impede his movement, did not stop him from continuing to fight the two men in front of him. All the shot had done was remind him that the two men in front of him were not the only ones in the room.

The men in front of him were tiring. They were beginning to make mistakes. The men might have been well trained, but the discipline and endurance were lacking in them, they had let themselves become complacent now that they were mercenaries. One of the men was unlucky to slip slightly on the blood of his fallen comrade, Athos sliced his sword into the man's side and sent him to join the fallen man.

The second, distracted momentarily, tried to get back into the fight but Athos, despite the stinging in his arm, managed to thrust his sword forward, ending the man.

As the man fell to the floor Athos turned, ready to take on any more men. As he turned, he saw a body lying behind him, a gunshot wound to the chest, the man's white shirt stained red as the wound bled profusely. The man was still clutching a sharp knife in his right hand held in such a way that when the man was alive the blade could have been thrust into another in order to maim or kill. Athos realised the blade had been meant for him. Aramis must have seen the man, which caused him to shout out and had obviously shot the man before he could stab Athos in the back.

Grateful, Athos turned to find Aramis staring at him, sword in one hand, gun in the other. Aramis looked shocked. Athos would have expected to see his brother going from body to body, ensuring the men were dead, perhaps making the sign of the cross and praying for their souls. But Aramis continued to stare at Athos.

MMMM

It was a long walk across Paris in the darkness. Porthos could not stop, he had to get d'Artagnan back to the garrison. The chances of other enemy agents catching up with them were too great. The enemy could have been anywhere or anyone. The only safe place was the garrison.

Porthos persevered. Carrying a man, a short distance was not a problem, getting a brother away from the battlefield was simple. But Porthos was carrying a fully-grown man across Paris. At night.

As he walked, he realised he was getting slower. But he could not stop. D'Artagnan had to be taken to safety.

Porthos tried to think of other things. But his mind kept returning to his brothers. The unconscious one he was carrying was the least of his worries. Porthos had been forced to leave Athos and Aramis behind, still fighting. Were they alright?

Two streets from the garrison and Porthos started to wonder if he would make it before his legs gave out. But he could not stop.

One street away and his walk was not a walk any longer it was simply a stumble. But he could not stop.

The gates of the garrison loomed in front of him, a few more steps and he would have succeeded, the potential sacrifice that Athos and Aramis were making would not have been in vain.

Turning into the garrison Porthos found that he had no choice but to stop. His knees gave way and he crashed down. For a second, he wondered if he would cause the young man he was still carrying, further injury.

But his burden was taken from him as he fell. Hands were on his shoulders steadying him, pushing him down to sit on the cobbled ground. Porthos was vaguely aware of d'Artagnan being carried away, towards the infirmary. Someone crouched down next to him handing him a cup of water from which Porthos drank gratefully.

He watched the unconscious man being taken into the infirmary, he knew d'Artagnan was safe. Porthos sighed with relief.

'Well done,' said Treville quietly, 'let us deal with him now.'

MMMM

Athos realised what had happened. Aramis had seen the knifeman about to stab him. The shot from Aramis was what had grazed Athos' arm.

'I...I didn't…' Aramis was struggling to speak.

Athos looked back at the man lying at his feet. He guessed that the shout from Aramis was to warn him about the man, but Athos had been busy fighting, he must have taken a step back at the moment Aramis fired. His brother had accidentally hit him.

'You were aiming at him. I stepped back. Aramis, it was an accident.'

'But I shot you…'

Aramis had paled significantly.

'I could have killed you…'

Athos rolled his eyes, annoyed that Aramis was blaming himself for causing the slight injury.

'Aramis, if you had not fired, I would have been killed by him.'

Aramis glanced at the man on the floor for a few seconds before looking back up at Athos.

'I know, but…'

Athos almost laughed, despite the seriousness of their situation. His friend was struggling to accept what he had done, what he had nearly done.

'I'd managed to push one of them away from me when I saw him about to stab you...I yelled but you didn't hear,' said Aramis, 'I had no choice. I had to be quick.'

Athos had walked up to Aramis, he rested his hands on Aramis' shoulders and looked the man firmly in the eyes.

'It was an accident, the ball barely touched me, it did not stop me fighting.'

Aramis nodded slowly, although he still looked a little shocked.

'You are the best marksman I know, Aramis, you still managed to hit your mark. You still saved me.'

'But…'

'We do not have time for this Aramis,' said Athos, not enjoying being firm with his clearly shocked friend.

Aramis was in danger of forgetting their situation, so caught up in what had happened the Musketeer had forgotten the bigger picture.

Athos looked around them, the bodies of all the men lay still, they had managed to take out all the men that had entered the house. But there was still the possibility of more men, they knew there were more, some had left earlier and there were bound to be others, perhaps taking turns to guard the house.

'We need to get back to the garrison, you can deal with the wound to my arm once we know that d'Artagnan is safe...Aramis, snap out of it.'

Aramis had been looking in the direction of the man he had killed when he saved Athos. He refocused on Athos.

'Sorry...I...yes...d'Artagnan,' stuttered Aramis.

The marksman turned towards the steps and walked purposefully from the room. Although Athos suspected that Aramis was not yet finished with his self-doubt, the man did seem to have put it to one side for the time being.

MMMM

 **Authors note: before you start to accuse me of making Aramis a bit out of character here, wait until the next couple of chapters are over… ;-)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

He had shot Athos; he had shot his friend. He knew it was accidental, but could he have done something differently?

And then he had frozen, shocked at what he had done, he had just stood there and stared. Athos had been forced to shake him out of his stupor. The man he had nearly killed had been forced to remind him that there was more at stake than his poor marksmanship.

Aramis shook his head as they hurried through the streets back to the garrison. He had let himself down badly. Once their current situation was resolved he decided he would need to take a few moments and work out what went wrong. But he could not do that now, not as they skirted passed the nocturnal Parisians. No, now was not the time for reflection and self-doubt. He had to push it aside until there was time to deal with it properly.

He glanced across at Athos, at the rip in his doublet. The rip he had dealt with his gun. The man had come very close to being seriously injured. Aramis knew he was going to have a hard time not dwelling on what might have been, keeping the self-doubt at bay might not be as easy as he would have liked.

They reached the garrison and headed straight for the infirmary. Treville had ensured that only a few trusted men would be around when Porthos returned with d'Artagnan and even then, they would be dismissed as soon as the liberated man had been settled.

The infirmary was dimly lit, the shutters closed. Porthos was leaning over the still unconscious d'Artagnan. Treville was sat on the other side of the bed, he looked the two new arrivals over as they walked into the room. Aramis saw their Captain note the injury Athos had to his arm. The Captain would not guess it had been inflicted by his marksman, Aramis doubted the thought would have even entered his mind.

Turning his attention to d'Artagnan, Aramis finally managed to concentrate on the present moment and not continue to dwell on what had happened earlier in the evening.

'He's covered in bruises. I don't think they decided to drug him straight away. He's going to be sore for several days. I can't find anything broken...his breathing seems fine. He hasn't woken up yet…' said Porthos glancing at Aramis.

Porthos stepped back as Aramis shrugged out of his doublet, his weapons belts already hanging off the back of one of the chairs. There were a few moments of silence as Aramis looked d'Artagnan over. He felt along the young man's limbs and body, searching for anything Porthos might have missed. Although they were all skilled enough to find basic injuries, Aramis had been given a little more training and acted as their field medic, but even his knowledge was limited to battlefield injuries. Anything more serious and they would have to call in a physician, something that none of them hoped would be necessary.

'I agree, it looks bad, but nothing's broken. We just need him to wake up,' concluded Aramis as he stepped back.

Treville nodded, 'thank you. Stay with him, take it in turns if you have to. Once he wakes, we need to know how much of the intelligence they got from him.'

Treville paused looking at d'Artagnan for a few moments before continuing.

'Make sure he understands that this is not his fault, he's bound to feel guilty, but I should have thought this through…'

'You cannot foresee everything, Captain,' said Athos quietly.

Aramis was sure Athos glanced at him fleetingly as he spoke.

Treville smiled, 'I know...get yourselves sorted out. Let me know when he wakes up.'

With a nod, Treville left the room.

They could not predict how long they would have to wait for d'Artagnan to come around. Aramis watched Porthos slowly tidy away the bowl of water and cloths he had been using to clean d'Artagnan up with. He returned to the unconscious man's side and sat in the seat vacated by Treville.

Athos was busy undoing his doublet and easing his injured arm out of the sleeve. Without thinking, Aramis went to help him.

'If that's the only injury, we did well,' said Porthos as he watched Athos push the sleeve of his shirt up to uncover the slight graze fully.

Aramis paused for a moment before busying himself with a fresh bowl of water and a bandage. He could sense Porthos' confused look and suspected Athos was rolling his eyes behind him.

'What?' asked Porthos.

'Athos' injury was not caused by one of the mercenaries,' said Aramis with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he spoke.

'Aramis, it was an accident. You still saved my life.'

Porthos huffed out a stifled laugh.

'You shot him?'

'Porthos,' said Athos quietly shaking his head in an attempt to stop him from continuing to tease Aramis.

'Yes, I shot him,' said Aramis as he put the bowl of water down beside Athos who had taken a seat at the table.

Athos must have given Porthos a look, as the man became quiet. Aramis cleaned the graze and dressed it, grateful it would not need to be stitched. He worked in silence before cleaning the things away and sitting himself away from the other. Athos looked at him for a few seconds before moving to sit on the bed next to d'Artagnan, eventually swinging his legs up and lying down.

All they could do was wait for d'Artagnan, giving Aramis plenty of time to mull over his failure earlier in the evening.

MMMM

Athos settled himself back on the bed, resting his head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling of the infirmary. Aramis' behaviour had annoyed him, the man was going to blame himself for something that was not important. He could not see that the injury was an accident. Aramis prided himself on his sharpshooting skills. Athos hoped his friend would get back to his usual self quickly. They did not need a distracted Musketeer whilst they dealt with something far more important.

Porthos had initially looked as though he was going to take great joy in teasing Aramis about what had happened. Their usual banter and frivolity were normally welcome but now was not the time. Aramis had taken the accident to heart and would not take kindly to Porthos making light of the incident. The subtle shake of the head he had aimed at Porthos was all the Musketeer needed to stop him. Porthos had returned his attention to d'Artagnan and let the matter drop.

Athos dozed off, the fight and worry had made him weary. He never slept heavily, he knew that he would easily awaken alert and ready for action at a moment's notice. He did not know how long he lay on the bed, but it did not feel like a great length of time when a quiet moan from d'Artagnan brought him back to his senses.

He opened his eyes and looked across. Aramis had joined Porthos by the young man's side. Porthos had a hand resting lightly on d'Artagnan's chest keeping him still.

The bruising on his face was darkening, starkly contrasting with the paleness of his skin. A sheen of sweat covered his face. He moaned again.

'D'Artagnan,' said Porthos quietly, 'you're back at the garrison, you're safe now.'

Athos sat up and leaned forward, not wanting to crowd the injured man but wanting to be close at hand if he was needed.

D'Artagnan blinked a few times and looked as though he was trying to focus on Porthos.

'I'm not talking,' d'Artagnan slurred, 'you can't make me...I won't tell you the words I know…'

'D'Artagnan, you're safe,' said Aramis, moving to put himself in the line of sight of the clearly confused man.

'Aramis…'

Aramis smiled at d'Artagnan, 'good to have you back, you had us worried-'

'...they'll find out about you and your women...someone won't like it…'

Aramis looked up, a confused expression on his face.

Athos rose from the bed and stepped forward. D'Artagnan looked at him.

'She's going to want you back...she thinks you still love her...one day you'll drink too much and do something you regret, they think you drink too much now…'

D'Artagnan made a vague gesture in the direction of Porthos and Aramis.

'What's the matter with him?' said Porthos, echoing the concern that Athos felt.

Aramis shook his head, 'I don't know, it's different to a concussion. He's confused, but it's as though he doesn't know that he shouldn't be saying the things he is.'

They continued to watch d'Artagnan for a few moments. A thought occurred to Athos.

'Is this due to the blow to the head? Will he recover?'

Aramis looked at him and shook his head, 'I have no idea, I've not seen something like this before, I don't think any of us have...I don't want to think about it being...permanent.'

Aramis lapsed into silence, Athos felt the same, their young friend was still mumbling about things, occasionally incoherently. Some of what he said made sense to them, although it was things they knew d'Artagnan would probably not choose to say out loud. He seemed conflicted in what he was saying, it was almost as if he knew that he should not say the things he was but could not stop himself. Had the beating he had endured affected his mind in some way? Was their d'Artagnan gone forever?

'I should say them, I'm supposed to say them...no…' d'Artagnan paused for a few seconds, he seemed to be struggling to work out what to say, 'I'm not to say the words, but you want me to say them…'

Porthos sat back and looked up at Athos and Aramis.

'It's the drug, whatever they drugged him with it's still affecting him.'

Athos straightened up. D'Artagnan mumbled a little before going quiet, he had not passed out, he was watching them.

'How long will it last?'

Aramis shrugged his shoulders, 'I've not had any dealings with anything like this before. We may need to get a doctor to look at him.'

'It might last a while yet,' said Porthos quietly.

Athos looked at him, wondering what he meant.

MMMM

Porthos was looking down at him, the man was slightly blurry around the edges, d'Artagnan guessed it was a good thing that he was looking at his friend and not at the leader of the men who had taken him captive.

The last few minutes were a bit of a confused muddle to him, he thought he might have said something he should not have done to Aramis and Athos. Something that he was supposed to only think and not say.

Aramis was looking at Athos, all three of his friends looked concerned.

He managed to look around the blurry infirmary, the pale walls were flickering in the candlelight. D'Artagnan wondered how long they had been there. His brothers must have rescued him, but he had no recollection of that happening. He had a vague memory of trying to antagonise the leader, he guessed he had succeeded.

D'Artagnan blinked, wondering if the action would clear his vision; it did not, and blinking would not stop his head from feeling fuzzy.

A thought occurred to him, he looked at Porthos, there was something he should not say to Porthos, but he needed to say it anyway.

'You know he's always watching out for people who say horrible things about you…'

Porthos looked at him for a few seconds. D'Artagnan pointed at Aramis who looked a little embarrassed.

'I saw him pin a man against a wall once because they said horrible things…'

Porthos smiled at d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan did not understand why.

'I know he does that,' Porthos said quietly before glancing at Aramis for a few seconds.

D'Artagnan looked back at the ceiling before sighing and wondering for a moment why he kept saying things he really should not.

MMMM

Athos watched as Porthos looked away for a few seconds, the concern about d'Artagnan clear on his face.

'What did you mean, just now, about this lasting a while?' he asked.

Porthos looked back at him.

'We need him clear-headed, we need to know what he told them…'

Porthos had gone back to looking at d'Artagnan, Athos knew the man had more to say on the matter but was reluctant to do so for some reason.

'Porthos, what do you know about this drug?' asked Aramis who had also picked up on Porthos' reticence to talk.

'When I was younger, I fell in with a group of people who were not averse to selling information…'

Porthos paused with a sigh. Athos knew the man had done a few things he was not particularly proud of during his youth growing up in the Court of Miracles, but he had done what he needed to survive. They did not hold his past against him in the same way that neither of their histories was used against them.

'...there was a woman, some people really thought she was a witch, she could make this concoction up with herbs and things I'd never heard of that made a man talk. Talk about everything, they couldn't help themselves.'

Porthos looked at d'Artagnan, 'I think he's had something like that, he's acting the same way...just coming out with things when he thinks of them. But when asked direct questions they feel compelled to answer. I bet he tried not to, I bet he resisted, but he will have talked.'

'And this drug takes it's time to leave the body?' asked Aramis.

Porthos nodded, 'I think he'll be like this for a few hours yet, we're not going to get a sensible answer from him for a bit...not without...making him talk.'

'What do you mean?' said Aramis.

Athos looked between the two men, he suspected Aramis had worked out what Porthos was going to say but was hoping he was wrong, Athos hoped he was wrong as well.

'We're going to have to interrogate him, the same way as the mercenaries did. He's aware enough not to just spout out the intelligence. He's been forced to talk about that; if we want him to answer specific questions we've got to be firm with him, or he's going to just keep telling us random things…'

Athos looked at Porthos, 'you've seen people being interrogated?'

Porthos nodded.

'I think I can do it...I would rather not though…'

Athos understood what his friend meant. Porthos was implying that they should be mean to their brother, mean to a man who had already endured a couple of nasty beating, was injured and confused.

'We need to know how much he told them,' said Athos, looking at Porthos intently.

Porthos nodded slowly.

'I've seen how forceful people have to be to get the drugged men to speak...it's not pleasant. I hated it, but I didn't have a choice at the time…'

Aramis rested his hand on Porthos' shoulder, offering what reassurance he could.

Porthos was quiet for a few moments before nodding, 'I will do it. I've seen it done, it's got to be me. You're right Athos, knowing what he has and hasn't said is important.'

Athos did not like watching Porthos make the difficult decision to bring further unpleasantness to d'Artagnan, but some things were bigger than any of them.

He watched as Porthos took a couple of deep breaths looking at d'Artagnan who was watching him from his place on the bed propped up a little by a couple of pillows. The young Musketeer looked a little confused by what was being said by them. Athos wondered if d'Artagnan had any comprehension of what was going on and what was about to happen.

The thought of being deliberately cruel to the injured man was not appealing and it was clear that Porthos did not want to do so. But as he had pointed out they needed to know what d'Artagnan had said. The intelligence may have already been passed on but from what Treville had said the information could still be used against the state.

'Would you like us to leave?' asked Athos after a few seconds when it became apparent that Porthos was reluctant to do what he needed to.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but I don't think I want an audience…'

'We understand,' said Aramis as he stepped back from the bed.

Although they doubted Porthos would need to get physical with d'Artagnan to get him to talk, the drug would do that for him, it was likely Porthos would have to get verbally abusive towards the injured man.

D'Artagnan was watching them walk from the room, Athos glanced back and saw their friend refocus on Porthos who had pulled his chair closer to the bed. He guessed Porthos was going to try a gentler approach to start with, but they all knew that was unlikely to work.

MMMM

D'Artagnan had managed to push himself up a little on the bed and was sat straighter. He watched Athos and Aramis leave. Porthos pulled his chair closer. The man sighed and took a deep breath before he spoke.

'D'Artagnan,' he said, 'I need you to tell me what you told the men.'

D'Artagnan looked at Porthos for a few seconds, wondering if it was a trick. Perhaps it was not Porthos. Perhaps he was still in the cellar and the man in front of him was really the leader of the men who had taken him. Perhaps Athos and Aramis had not been real. Perhaps he had not actually been rescued.

His vision was still not properly focused. The walls of the infirmary, back at the garrison were similar to the walls in the cellar, particularly in the dim light. The light was very similar. D'Artagnan was sure he was still in the cellar.

He could not speak to the man next to him, that would be wrong.

But he had already said everything to the man anyway. What more could he want?

'I need you to tell me what you told the men.'

'I didn't tell them anything?' said d'Artagnan, uncertain if that is what the man pretending to be Porthos wanted.

D'Artagnan decided that he needed to be helpful but was not sure how he should go about doing that.

'Did you tell them everything?' the pretend Porthos spoke with a little more conviction, as if he was becoming sure of himself.

D'Artagnan looked around, trying to see if there were any of the other men, he tried to remember what they had looked like. It was all too hazy in his mind.

Pretend Porthos reached out and turned his head back to face him. Porthos looked annoyed, but not properly annoyed. D'Artagnan was very confused.

'How. Much. Did. You. Tell. Them?'

The slowly reeled off words were said firmly and not without a little menace.

Real Porthos would not talk to him like that. Would he?

'I'm not supposed to say the words?'

Pretend Porthos sighed before speaking again, 'I don't need to know what the intelligence is, I just need to know if you told them everything...d'Artagnan, look at me.'

He found himself being forced to look at Pretend Porthos again.

'I can't…'

'Yes, you can. You must.'

D'Artagnan felt compelled, he did not want to talk to Pretend Porthos, but the man was insistent. D'Artagnan was not cut out for soldiering he decided as for the second time he did as he was told. He hated to do it, but he spoke, he told Pretend Porthos what he wanted to hear.

MMMM

 **Authors note: Do you want the next chapter this afternoon (UK time – 1500-1600ish)? Or tomorrow?**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

As they emerged into the daylight Aramis realised just how long they had already been waiting for d'Artagnan to talk. He and Athos had returned late the previous night, then they had been forced to wait for several hours before d'Artagnan had regained consciousness. It was now early afternoon. There were a few men in the garrison, but they were keeping to themselves, busy with their own work.

Aramis blinked a few times, the few hours' sleep he had snatched as they waited for d'Artagnan had not really been enough, but he knew he could function on less. He looked across at Athos who was looking at him intently.

'I guess we just have to wait for Porthos to get what he needs from d'Artagnan,' Aramis said.

Athos nodded, 'I wonder if d'Artagnan will remember this. Being drugged.'

Aramis shrugged his shoulders, 'I'm no expert in such things, but we know different drugs have different effects on people. I hope he won't remember, for Porthos' sake.'

Athos nodded before wincing slightly. Aramis frowned for a second wondering what had caused his friend to react in such a way. The memory of the previous evening, of him accidentally shooting Athos refilled his mind. It completely clouded him for a few moments, the fear and worry about d'Artagnan had pushed the unpleasantness away but now it returned.

His failure, his inability to keep his friend from harm, returned to the forefront of his mind.

Athos must have noticed as he grabbed Aramis by the arm.

'Do not start to dwell on it again, it is done, it is over. We still have to think about d'Artagnan.'

Aramis shook his head, 'we can't do anything about d'Artagnan for a while, but I can do something about my shooting.'

'You do not need to do anything about your shooting, Aramis.'

Athos tried to stop Aramis from turning and walking off, pulling his gun from his belt as he went, but Aramis was determined. He was going to the shooting range and he was going to practice, he needed to prove to himself that he had not lost his gift for accuracy.

The shooting range was empty, Aramis was glad, he did not need an audience. He needed solitude. He needed peace. D'Artagnan was injured, Porthos was doing something he clearly did not want to and he had shot one of his best friends.

Was he overreacting?

Was Athos correct, that it had been an accident? He replayed the event over in his mind again and again. Had Athos stepped back at the last second? Or had his aim been off?

He needed to think about something that was not what was going on in the infirmary, and this, his inability to shoot straight, was the only thing he could think about. And it was something he could deal with whilst he waited.

Aramis marched to the centre of the range and looked at one of the targets that was set up, the wooden board with circles drawn on it was about the same distance away as Athos had been the previous night. He took a few moments to stare at the target, going over the event in his head for what felt like the hundredth time.

Had it been an unlucky accident?

His aim was true, it was always true. He was the best. Porthos was always bragging to people about how good he was, they had used his shooting skills to their advantage several times.

But he could have killed Athos the previous night.

Aramis sighed. Why was this bothering him so much? D'Artagnan had been taken and beaten and was having to endure more from one of their own and here he was worrying about something so unimportant.

But he could not get away from the fact that he had shot Athos.

MMMM

Athos watched Aramis sight the target along his gun and fire. Of course, he hit the centre of the target, Athos had expected nothing less. The man was the Musketeers top marksman after all. Aramis was worrying unnecessarily. He had got himself wound up over nothing. It annoyed Athos, but, despite the other things that were going on, amused him at the same time.

He wondered if Aramis was using the accident now as an excuse to find something to do whilst they waited for Porthos to get what they needed form d'Artagnan?

Was Aramis really dwelling on his earlier accident in order to push their current situation out of his mind? In a way, Athos hoped he was. Aramis reloaded the gun and fired again, the ball hit in exactly the same spot on the target. The man had no issue with his accuracy. Athos just hoped Aramis knew that.

Athos looked back towards the infirmary and wondered what was going on within the walls? Was Porthos having to give d'Artagnan a hard time to get what they needed from him? Or was d'Artagnan willingly giving up the information? Athos wondered which would be preferable.

If d'Artagnan, despite his drugged state, resisted Porthos' interrogation it showed the young man was made of what it took to be a soldier. But if he was holding back, Porthos would be forced to be firm and potentially physical with their friend. Athos did not like to contemplate the consequences of that. Porthos would do what he had to do but he would be left devastated at being forced to treat one of his friends in such a manner.

On the other hand, if d'Artagnan gave up the information easily he would feel as though he had failed. The poor man would probably feel like he had let them down anyway but knowing that he easily gave up the information would make it worse for him.

With a heavy heart, Athos turned away from the firing range and Aramis' continued redundant practice. He turned away from the infirmary and the thought of whatever was happening within. He crossed the garrison yard to the table and sat with his back to everything. He looked at the wall in front of him and wondered if he could just forget it all for a few moments?

Although he knew it would all still be there after those moments were up.

MMMM

Porthos had moved to sit on the bed, putting himself in front of d'Artagnan, who still looked unfocused, with a hint of apprehension in his eyes as well. Porthos hated it, hated what he was doing to his friend. Hated that he had to do it for the sake of France.

'I told them the words, the words...the intelligence.'

D'Artagnan had gradually made more and more sense as Porthos had pressed him for the information. The confused mumbled answers, his talk of Athos and Aramis had stopped. Now that Porthos was being firm with the injured man he was answering him more directly.

'Did you tell them all of the intelligence?'

D'Artagnan took a couple of breaths before he answered. Porthos had watched him do the same thing each time he asked a direct question. He guessed the man was fighting an inner turmoil that was telling him not to answer the question, but the drugs were winning each time and d'Artagnan answered.

'I told them everything.'

D'Artagnan paused for a few seconds before looking at Porthos with what looked like clear, focused eyes for a few seconds.

'I'm sorry...I couldn't stop...I shouldn't have...I-'

'D'Artagnan,' said Porthos as he reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder to make him look up again, 'confirm what you just said to me, I need to know that you understand. Did you tell them everything?'

D'Artagnan nodded, holding the eye contact for a few seconds before limply falling back. He had passed out. Porthos guided him to lie back down.

He remained where he was for a few minutes waiting in case the younger man came around again. When it was clear he was sleeping Porthos rose from the bed knowing he had to talk to Treville and Athos straight away. The evening sun was already dimming.

MMMM

Athos did not know how long he sat at the table. Other than giving Treville an update he had not spoken to anyone. The other men steered clear of him. He poured himself another cup of wine and continued to wait. Continued to listen to the intermittent sounds of Aramis shooting on the range. He sighed. Aramis was at least one problem he could deal with, he could do nothing for d'Artagnan at that moment, but he could sort out his other friend's issue.

He swung his legs over the bench and hauled himself up. Marching with purpose he walked through to the firing range. Aramis was still in the same place, reloading the gun. As Athos approached, he watched as Aramis raised the gun, paused for a second and fired, hitting the target precisely.

'You need to stop this,' said Athos as he reached Aramis.

Aramis did not look at him, merely began to reload his gun.

'Your shooting is fine. It was fine last night, and it will be fine tomorrow. You are the best marksman in the garrison, probably in France…'

Aramis paused, looking at his gun. He blinked a couple of times before raising his arm to fire again. Athos reached up and gently placed his hand over Aramis' wrist and pushed his arm back down.

'Stop, now,' he said quietly.

'Why?'

'Because you do not need the practice. You know that.'

Aramis finally looked at him, 'I know I don't, but I need to be sure…'

'Aramis, you did not do anything wrong. You do not need to wallow in this self-doubt and pity. You need to shake this off. Do you need me to forgive you for shooting me?'

Aramis looked away.

'Aramis, I forgive you. Now please concentrate on what is happening now. D'Artagnan needs us. Treville might need us depending on what that intelligence contained. I need you to concentrate on the here and now, not dwelling on something that did not happen.'

'Has Porthos finished with d'Artagnan?'

Athos shook his head.

'Then I shall stay here a little longer…'

Athos sighed, he contemplated ordering Aramis away from the firing range but decided he did not want to inflame the situation any further. He shook his head and walked away. The sound of the gun being fired again followed him as he walked back to the yard.

MMMM

Porthos looked out of the infirmary and spotted Athos walking across the yard, he beckoned the Musketeer towards him.

'Has he talked?' asked Athos when he was within earshot.

Porthos nodded, 'it's not good, he told them everything.'

Athos sighed, 'it is what we thought. Did he give you any idea what the mercenaries plan to do with the information?'

'There was something about them passing the information on but I don't think he could hear all that was going on. Once they weren't paying him any attention he must have struggled to focus.'

Treville, who had seen the two men talking crossed the yard. Porthos relayed the information to the Captain who thought for a moment.

'I wonder if he could stop the information being passed on again? It is time sensitive. If it is prevented from going any further, we may be able to prevent harm coming to innocent people.'

Athos said, 'I will revisit my contact, he knew where the mercenaries were keeping d'Artagnan he may know where they meet their paymasters.'

Treville nodded his ascent of the plan. Athos turned towards the stables without further preamble. Porthos watched him go.

'How is he?'

'He's asleep now, hopefully, the drug will wear off before he wakes up again. It's horrible seein' him all confused...I just hope he doesn't remember what I had to do.'

'Even if he does, Porthos, he will not blame you.'

Treville held Porthos' gaze for a few seconds. Porthos managed a smile, his Captain was correct, d'Artagnan would not blame him.

As Treville walked back to his office, Porthos returned to the infirmary. He blinked a few times wishing the whole sordid affair was over and done with.

MMMM

Aramis slowly reloaded the gun. He shook his head wondering why he was doing so? He could shoot straight. There was nothing wrong with his aim. It had been an accident.

He came to the conclusion that he was blaming himself and punishing himself because he felt helpless. He could do nothing for d'Artagnan. There was no wound to stitch, no broken bone to set. He could do nothing but wait for d'Artagnan to, hopefully, recover from the drug that was ravaging his mind.

He had been acting childishly, not listening to Athos' repeated assurances that all was well between them.

Aramis holstered his gun, he looked at the target with its perfectly placed holes. Every spot he had aimed at, he had hit. The incident the previous night had been a freak accident. Yes, it could have been serious, yes, he could have killed Athos, but it would not have been his fault. His aim was true, as it always was.

He turned his back on the target and made his way towards the yard and the infirmary. He decided he would check on Porthos and d'Artagnan. As he reached the yard, he saw Athos leaving on horseback.

Athos paused, looking down at him, 'd'Artagnan told them everything, I'm going to see my contact again.'

Aramis nodded and watched as Athos pushed the horse into a canter and left the garrison.

Aramis walked over to the infirmary, confident that he would not be disturbing Porthos in his work with d'Artagnan. As he pushed the door open, he was shocked at the sight before him but reacted quickly.

Porthos who was stood by the table wavered slightly and appeared to wilt. Aramis rushed forward and grabbed his friend before he collapsed completely.

'Porthos?'

He pushed his friend to lean against the table. Porthos was blinking hard, it was obvious he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

'Come, my friend, you need to rest,' said Aramis as he pulled Porthos back up to stand and guided him over to the bed beside d'Artagnan.

'Sorry,' said Porthos his voice a little slurred.

'Did you sleep at all last night, Athos and I got a few hours each. I thought you had rested as well?'

Porthos shook his head, 'couldn't. I was too worried about him,' he said pointing at d'Artagnan.

'So were we, but we managed to rest a little.'

Aramis pushed Porthos down onto the bed. His friend looked exhausted. Aramis tried to work out how long he had been awake for. Far longer than he should have been was the conclusion Aramis came to.

'I'll watch d'Artagnan, and you are right there. Sleep, for a few hours, we need to wait for Athos to return before we can do anything else anyway.'

Aramis smiled as his friend visibly relaxed, he was asleep in minutes.

MMMM

Two hours later Athos pushed the infirmary door open again. He saw Aramis sat at the table. The Musketeer was reading a well-thumbed book, he looked up and indicated for Athos to be quiet before nodding towards the beds.

'I came in here and pretty much had to pick Porthos off the floor, did you realise he had not slept at all last night.'

Athos shook his head, replaying the previous hours in his head.

'I think,' he said quietly, 'that we were both a bit preoccupied to notice.'

Aramis smiled, 'yes, I know I perhaps did not handle that very well. I let it cloud my judgement.'

'It took your mind off him though,' replied Athos looking across at d'Artagnan who seemed to be finally sleeping peacefully.

Aramis nodded before asking, 'what did your contact have to say?'

'Ruiz was surprisingly talkative. He told me that the mercenaries have been seen in various locations across the city. But he knew that their leader always visited the same area each day. I suspect that will be his meeting with his employer.'

Athos related to Aramis how Ruiz had described the meeting place near the banks of the Seine. His contact had known the location as he had once gone with the mercenaries when he was given a job by them. The turncoat was still happy to accept work from the criminal underclasses despite the money Athos paid him for information.

'He told me there would be two men, the employer and the leader of the mercenaries. I am going there now, I should be able to intercept them before the information is passed between them.'

Aramis nodded, 'two men, not a problem for you, my friend.'

'I feel I could do with getting some of my aggression out. This has left me rather wound up.'

Aramis looked down for a few seconds, 'I'm sorry I contributed to that,' he said.

'Once this is over, you can buy me a drink or two...unless you think I have had too much?'

Athos enjoyed the look of annoyance that crossed Aramis' face as he reminded him what d'Artagnan had said earlier.

'I wonder if we should tell him all the things that he said to us?' asked Aramis.

Athos shook his head as he turned to go, 'I think the poor man will be feeling bad enough about all this anyway, without us telling him what else he said.'

Pleased that he had finally cleared the air with Aramis, Athos retreated from the room to prepare for his meeting with the mercenary and his paymaster.

MMMM


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The light in the room was dim, he guessed in deference to his potential headache. D'Artagnan was grateful, his head hurt but not as much as it could have done. He looked at the infirmary ceiling and sighed inwardly. He had no recollection of being rescued from the cellar. The last thing he could remember was being forced to drink the drugged water, knowing he would not be able to fight its effects.

There were odd images in his mind that were jumbled and confused. He knew he had talked, he was aware he was talking to the leader of the men who had taken him. D'Artagnan felt ashamed at his inability to keep quiet, he knew it was the drug that had made him give up the information, but he had allowed himself to be taken captive. He was sure there would be consequences to his actions. He hoped Treville would not strip him of his hard-won commission.

There was a quiet conversation going on to his left. He did not want them to know he was awake just yet. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on what Porthos and Aramis were saying.

'...you should have woken me,' said Porthos, with a hint of annoyance to his voice.

'Porthos,' said Aramis in that calming tone he used on people he was tending to as a medic, 'you were deeply asleep. You needed the rest. Honestly, if I had not come back when I did, I would have been hauling you off the floor and onto a bed. You were dead on your feet.'

Porthos made a non-committal noise somewhere between a begrudging agreement and still being annoyed.

'Anyway, Athos was quite happy to go on his own. There's only going to be two of them, he can deal with that. He said he was looking forward to getting rid of the pent-up aggression all this has caused.'

Aramis paused for a few seconds. It was Porthos who spoke next, his tone now showing a slight concern for his friend.

'Are you alright?'

After another few seconds Aramis replied, 'yes, I think, rather like Athos I was trying to find some way to distract myself from d'Artagnan. We still don't really know if he's going to be alright.'

Realising that by keeping quiet he was prolonging his brothers' worry, d'Artagnan knew he had to make his presence known. He opened his eyes again and turned his head to face them. Porthos was sat on the next bed, his legs up and a blanket haphazardly over him. D'Artagnan guessed his friend had been sleeping for a while.

Aramis was sat on a chair between the two beds. The chair was angled towards him, but Aramis had twisted to talk to Porthos, perhaps when the other Musketeer had woken up. They both looked across at him.

Aramis spoke first, 'how are you feeling?'

D'Artagnan was surprised by the questioning tone to Aramis' voice. He must have looked confused.

'Do you know where you are?'

'In the infirmary…' said d'Artagnan slowly, wondering what Aramis was so worried about, 'I don't remember being rescued from the cellar...I don't know if I talked to them or not...they drugged me.'

'You talked,' said Porthos with a sad smile.

'How do you know?'

Porthos did not answer, d'Artagnan saw his friend look away, an expression of regret clouding his features. Aramis moved to sit on the edge of the bed. D'Artagnan allowed the medic to feel his head and neck.

'You were still suffering from the drug when we got you back, this isn't the first time you've come around,' said Aramis by way of explanation.

D'Artagnan noticed that Porthos was looking away again, he found it odd but did not comment. He wondered if there was more to what Aramis has said.

'You are covered with bruises, but I cannot find any broken bones. But you are staying there for the next few days until we are sure the drug is out of your system and you are able to move about easily. And Treville is not going to let you out of the garrison for the next week anyway, in case there are others that want the intelligence.'

It took d'Artagnan a few seconds to take in the news that he was effectively a prisoner again, although this time his own injuries were the cause.

'Where has Athos gone?' he asked, remembering the earlier conversation between Porthos and Aramis.

'Gone to see if he can stop the intelligence getting passed on any further, his contact told him where the leader of the gang and their paymaster meet…'

'What?' asked Porthos who had been watching d'Artagnan intently.

'His contact?'

D'Artagnan looked between the two men, they were both looking at him with confusion, wondering what it was that he was worried about. D'Artagnan was trying to work out what it was himself. There was something about his time captive that had sprung to the front of his mind when Aramis had told him where Athos had gone.

'What's the matter?' asked Porthos again.

It took d'Artagnan a moment to remember what it was that had so fleetingly passed across his mind.

'I think...Ruiz was there.'

'Where?'

'In the cellar. When they first turned up. My head was really bad, I was still getting over the first drug they gave me. The men were quite blurry, but there was one. He kept a little bit away from me...thinking about it now...I think he didn't want me to see him clearly...But I'm sure it was Ruiz.'

'What?!' said Porthos, throwing the blanket to the side and swinging his legs off the bed.

Aramis looked equally shocked.

'I think Ruiz is working for both sides...I hope I'm wrong…'

'But if you're not,' said Porthos, 'Athos could be walking straight into a trap.'

'Ruiz could have told the mercenaries and they could take out Athos and still pass the information along,' said Aramis.

'Or nothing could happen, there could be no one there,' said d'Artagnan hopefully.

'We ain't taking that risk,' said Porthos rising from the bed.

Aramis looked undecided for a moment, d'Artagnan realised what was bothering the man.

'I promise I won't move.'

Aramis nodded as he stood up, 'see that you don't; you really are in no state to get up.'

D'Artagnan watched as the two men pulled on their doublets and strapped on their weapons belts.

'Be careful,' he said.

'We will,' said Porthos before turning to leave the room.

Aramis followed, both men walked with a determination d'Artagnan recognised. His brothers were going to stop at nothing to ensure that Athos was safe.

MMMM

Athos knew the area well enough to know that it would be quiet. The time of day would have seen to that. People would have been heading home, closing up their businesses and finding comfort with their families or a good meal at a tavern.

He walked purposefully, he had considered saddling a horse but knew he would have to leave the beast far enough away to not draw attention to himself that it was not worth the time it would have taken to prepare to ride.

The smell of the river assailed his senses, he could pick out various scents, food, spices and possibly the stench of death, always an unwelcome product of the area. The general filth that seemed to cling to everything made Athos keep to the centre of the road, not wishing to even brush against the walls until he had to. He knew he would have to conceal himself in a dark area at some point but until that time he would avoid the muck and grime as much as he could.

The area for the meet was suitably clandestine, dark shadows clinging to every corner, rats skittering away as he approached.

Athos found a suitable dark corner and pushed himself into it, pressing himself into the stone wall, weathered by years of exposure.

He waited, Ruiz had said the meeting would be at the time the bell struck six. The lengthening shadows told Athos he would not be waiting long.

A man appeared, he recognised him as the leader of the men in the cellar. The one that had been interrogating d'Artagnan. The one that had forced his young friend to drink a drug that had made him talk. Poor d'Artagnan, who Athos knew would have fought against the drug, would have tried his hardest not to give in and would be devastated that he had failed.

The leader looked about himself, Athos appraised the man's stance, mentally preparing himself for the fight he would shortly be having with the man. He looked capable, he held himself tall, his sword perfectly positioned on his belt. Ready for action. Mercenaries were well paid to be ready for action at a moment's notice.

The leader looked up as a second man approached, Athos pushed himself off the wall slightly, ready to step forward. The second man was older than the first, he had his back to Athos. The leader of the mercenaries acknowledged the man. Athos watched them move closer. He wanted them closer together. His intention was to shoot one of them before engaging the second. If he shot the leader that would, hopefully, leave him with the weaker man to deal with.

Athos made his move. Stepping forward and raising his weapon in one swift movement he was about to pull the trigger when four more men appeared from the same direction that the second man had come. Athos was momentarily surprised. The seconds' hesitation was enough for Athos to be overwhelmed by the men.

Regaining his wits, he fired his weapon at the closest man who staggered back into another man. Athos paid him no more attention, the man had been shot in the chest he would play no further part in the proceedings. He flipped his gun and using as much force as he could muster, he brought it down on a second man who crashed to the ground. But the man was not unconscious, he was only stunned enough to keep him out of the fight for a short while.

Taking a couple of steps back Athos took stock of his situation. He was facing six men, one he had dealt with and one was out of commission temporarily. That left him four men, who he suspected were all mercenaries and one more who could re-join the affray at any moment.

Athos was going to find his contact and kill him. This was not how he had expected the evening to go. Ruiz had told him that there would be two men at the meeting point, passing the vital intelligence between them. Two men, Athos could have handled. Two men were not an issue for a swordsman of his ability. But six. Six was quite a few men to find himself having to deal with.

Concentrating on the four men who were still on their feet, Athos knew he had to thin them out a bit. He could not take them all on at once, not in the open. He backed up towards an alleyway. The alleyway was wide enough for him to swing a sword comfortably but not for all four of his opponents. There was no quick way for them to get behind him, so they would have to come at him individually, or possibly in pairs. Athos hoped for the former but would deal with the latter if he had to.

The first man to approach him was the leader of the mercenaries, he was of similar build and height to himself. Athos swung his sword and forced the man back a couple of paces. This man was trained, thought Athos, as he dodged a well-aimed thrust. Athos feinted to the left before stepping into the man and bodily pushing him back, hooking his foot behind the man's ankle as he did so, sending him sprawling to the cobbled ground.

Two more men stepped over the first and rushed forward. Man number two was skinny, he was missing a tooth, Athos guessed it would not take much to knock him down, man number three was the opposite, a stocky short man, but his movements were slow. Athos parried the first poor attempt to impale him, made by the third man, before slicing his sword across the man's side decisively. The move left Athos with four men to fight.

The skinny second man was not alone for long. The leader had scrambled to his feet.

Athos was tiring. He hated to admit to any fallibility on his own part, but every man had his limits. He was fighting six men, Athos knew he would not come out unscathed.

The leader of the mercenaries looked annoyed that Athos had got him on the ground and attacked with a renewed vigour. The two men were soon locked in a fierce battle exchanging sword blows with bruising precision. Athos had his work cut out dealing with the man.

He wondered if Ruiz had been planning to set him up from the start? Was this some grand plan to kill him? He dismissed the thought, he was not that important, and an assassin could have taken him out with a gun at any number of moments since he had met the informant. No, Ruiz had probably just been paid more by these men.

His musings were cut short by the swordsman in front of him making a mistake, Athos plunged his sword into the man stomach, using his foot to push the man down. The man who had beaten d'Artagnan and drugged him was dead. But there was no time to tarry, he still had three more men to deal with.

The skinny, toothless man looked terrified, but he was soon joined by a tall broad man who would not look out of place brawling for money in a tavern. In fact, Athos wondered if he recognised the man as one of the few that had been able to beat Porthos over the years. Athos pushed the thought away as the big man advanced.

A dangerous ploy formed in his mind. He hated to do it, but he would have to think differently against this opponent. His bigger sword would be harder to parry. The skinny man was a poor fighter, Athos would use that to his advantage, despite the consequence to himself.

He allowed the skinny man to get closer, dodging the big man several times, ducking down and jumping to the side. He bided his time until he had the skinny man where he wanted him. As the big man raised his sword for another bruising blow Athos sidestepped towards the skinny man who enjoyed the sudden opening to make contact with his sword, slicing Athos across the arm.

The skinny man grinned, his toothless grin a macabre reminder to Athos of what he had done to d'Artagnan, this man had been responsible for drugging his friend. Athos felt no pity for the underhand move he was about to make.

The skinny man's enjoyment of drawing blood from Athos was short lived as the big, brutish man's sword swing could not be stopped in time to prevent him from slicing deeply into the skinny man's neck.

The man crumpled to the floor. The brute stared at the skinny man, the shock at what he had done, or rather been manipulated into doing caused him to pause. His pause proved fatal.

Wrenching his main gauche from his belt Athos stepped forward and thrust the sword into the man's chest, making sure the blade slipped between the ribs and embedded itself deeply into his lungs.

Athos stumbled back a couple of paces panting. How many had he dealt with? He looked along the alleyway counting the bodies that littered the ground, his eyes coming to rest on the sixth man, the man he had hit with his spent gun.

The man stared at him for a few seconds, his sword held firmly in his right hand. Athos knew the cut to his own arm was deep and bleeding freely. Athos was in no state to continue to fight another man. He could probably hold the man off for a few seconds, but he was exhausted and bleeding badly. This sixth man might be his undoing.

Athos raised his sword, if he was going to die, he would die fighting.

MMMM

 **Authors note: Chapter eight a little later today. Thanks for all the great comments.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The thought of another of his friends coming to harm due to the much sought-after intelligence was abhorrent to Aramis. The thought made him more determined to see that it did not happen.

They walked quickly, the few people they encountered could see the two soldiers were on business. A path was clear in front of them. The people moved aside, allowing them to pass.

Porthos had not spoken as they left the garrison. Neither man had told anyone else where they were going, if Treville visited d'Artagnan in the infirmary he would gain his update then. There was no time to tarry, Athos was in potentially deadly danger and they were the only ones who could help him.

The slight hope that the mercenaries would simply have rearranged their meeting when they learned from Ruiz that Athos was planning to intervene was outweighed by the more sinister possibilities.

As they approached the river the clash of swords echoed off the stone walls of the buildings. Both men broke into a run, Aramis drew one of his guns.

They rounded a corner and pulled up. A body lay on the edge of the river bank. A neat hole in his doublet and an accompanying pool of blood told them all they needed to know. The sword fight that they could hear was continuing within an alleyway a few yards from their location. Aramis walked forward with Porthos close behind. Both men were on alert ready to react at a moments' notice.

More bodies came into view.

A stocky man lay sprawled across the cobbles at the entrance to the alleyway, he was still alive, but only just. His short gasping breaths told Aramis he was beyond help, a gaping wound to his side the cause of his distress.

Aramis looked further into the alleyway and found the body of the man they guessed was the leader of the mercenaries, he was certainly the leader of d'Artagnan's interrogation. The man had a wound to his stomach, blood was still oozing through his plain doublet, the man's sightless eyes staring at the darkening sky.

Next, they found the man who had drugged d'Artagnan, a deep cut to his neck which had caused a dramatic spray of blood to fall across his own and the leader's body. The blood was no longer flowing, and the man was very dead.

Finally, a big brute of a man lay, still breathing; the parrying dagger, deeply embedded in his chest, was moving with each breath. The man's breaths were coming slowly, he was probably unconscious and unaware of his impending doom.

A grunt further into the alleyway drew Aramis' attention.

Time stood still. Aramis watched for what felt like hours but was no more than a matter of seconds as Athos was pushed backwards by the final mercenary.

Athos, who was carrying a bad injury to his arm. Athos, who looked exhausted. Had he really just taken out five men on his own? Of course he had, thought Aramis, he was the best swordsman in Paris. But the man was injured and fading.

Blood was flowing from the wound, it was drenching his hand and dripping to the ground, splashing across the damp cobbles.

As he was pushed backwards, Athos stumbled, his fatigue leaving him unable to maintain his usual poise. He crashed to the ground skidding back a couple of feet as he did so, the momentum of the push carrying him backwards. The move meant he flung his arms out to the sides to try to break fall, the action caused his sword to loosen from his grasp and slide away.

Athos was defenceless. Aramis had seen his gun at the entrance to the alleyway, his main gauche was still embedded in one man's chest and now his swords was beyond his reach.

The last mercenary straightened up and began to advance. Athos had a rare look of defeat on his face. He had fought well, but the situation had been too much, even for him.

The mercenary brought his sword up, ready to thrust it into the helpless Musketeer. Ready to kill Athos.

MMMM

Porthos followed the trail of destruction with Aramis. Body after body lay like discarded firewood, strewn across the alleyway. Five men, Porthos counted them. Athos had dealt with five men. But the sixth one was about to beat him. The sixth man was about to kill their brother.

As they continued to rush forward Porthos was aware of Aramis pulling his second gun. He raised the weapon without missing a step. The marksman sighted his target and fired. There did not appear to be a moment's pause or a moment's hesitation. Aramis had not missed a beat, he had acted on impulse. There had been no thought.

The ball hit the man in the left shoulder. Porthos would have applauded the choice of impact point if it had been the time to do so. The move was minor but the force of the ball hitting the man was enough to twist him just slightly off his course of action. The sword which had been destined to be thrust into Athos' chest was thrown off just enough to miss the prone man completely.

The final mercenary collapsed forward landing across Athos who huffed out a breath at the unwelcome weight.

The attacker was not dead, he was trying to push himself up. Aramis had his second gun ready. Porthos knew that Aramis had somehow planned for the first shot not to be fatal, he had needed to prevent further harm coming to Athos first, and finish the attacker off second.

Aramis fired the second gun mere moments after the first. The ball entered the back of the man's head. This time when he went down, he stayed down.

Porthos reached Athos a second before Aramis who had managed to holster his first weapon before he knelt beside their fallen brother.

Porthos pulled the dead weight of the mercenary away, leaving the man in a heap at the side of the alleyway. He returned his attention to Athos who was weakly trying to sit up but failing miserably, not least due to Aramis' hand on his chest keeping him on the ground.

'Stay still for a moment,' Aramis said adopting a gently commanding tone.

Athos complied with Aramis' request and lay back down. He was breathing fast and blinking. Porthos could tell he was still wound up due to the fight.

'It's done,' he said quietly trying to get Athos to focus on him as Aramis pulled off his gloves and started to undo Athos' weapons belt.

Without asking, Aramis leaned forward and grabbed Porthos' hand guiding it across to the wound on Athos' left arm. Porthos did not need to be told to apply pressure. Athos winced in pain.

'Sorry,' said Porthos, 'we'll get you sorted out, then get you back to the garrison.'

Athos managed to look at him and nodded once before leaning his head back and staring at the sky.

'I was...not expecting...that many,' he said, as he tried to control his breathing.

'Shh…' said Aramis absentmindedly as he worked on undoing the buttons on Athos' doublet.

Porthos leaned forward and slipped his arm under Athos' shoulders, anticipating Aramis' need to divest their friend of his jacket. Athos could not suppress a brief whimper of pain as he was pulled about.

'Sorry,' said Porthos as he pulled Athos closer to him.

Aramis managed to ease Athos' arm from the sleeve before Porthos quickly applied pressure to the wound again. He glanced at Aramis as blood seeped through the leather of his gloves. Aramis looked up, the worry evident in his eyes. The wound was bad, it was still bleeding freely.

'I can do no more than bind it here, we need to get back to the garrison quickly.'

Athos was looking at Aramis intently.

'Did you shoot him?' he asked quietly.

Aramis paused for a second as he began to untie the blue sash from his waist.

Porthos answered for his friend, 'yes he did, whilst running. Twice.'

Athos managed a weak smile, 'see. I told you, you had nothing to worry about.'

Aramis looked at him and smiled, 'let's get you fixed up, shall we? I've still got to worry about you, even if now it is not my own doing.'

Porthos could see that Aramis did not want to think about how he had just proved to them all, but mainly to himself, that there was nothing wrong with his skills as a marksman. Aramis had other things to think about. Porthos could see his friends mind rushing ahead to the tricky task of dealing with the sword wound to Athos' arm. It was deep, the blood was seeping through the sash as Aramis wound the fabric firmly around his friend's arm.

'I doubt we're gonna be able to commandeer a cart now,' said Porthos. 'I think we're walking.'

Aramis nodded, 'not ideal, but between us, I think we can get him there, provided we get on with it.'

'What about them?' asked Porthos looking at the bodies.

'They are not going anywhere,' said Athos, his voice slightly slurred.

'Good point,' Porthos said smiling at Athos as he pulled the man up to stand as gently as he could.

Aramis arranged himself on the other side of the man, pushing Athos' injured arm across his chest, and pulling the loose doublet back over his shoulder. Porthos pulled Athos' right arm over his shoulder and slipped his arm around the injured man's waist. Aramis did the same on the other side.

Between them, they could support most of Athos' weight as they moved as quickly as they could back to the garrison to give their friend the attention he urgently needed.

MMMM

D'Artagnan had managed to push himself up to sit on the bed, his head still ached, but he felt better than he had when he had first fully come around. It concerned him that he had first come around with his friends when he was still under the influence of the drug. He hoped he had not made a fool of himself. It was bad enough that he had told the mercenaries everything, but to think that he might have said some stupid things when he was suffering from the effects of whatever they had drugged him with was a worry.

But he was glad he had been able to alert Porthos and Aramis to the potential danger that Athos was walking into. The two Musketeers had left quickly, he had watched them disappear out of the garrison. He wished he could go with them but knew it would be foolhardy, he doubted he could stand without help at that point anyway.

He knew he was badly bruised all over, even the smallest of movements was uncomfortable. The beating he had received was going to leave him incapacitated for a few days. Days in which he could contemplate his stupidity.

He only hoped Athos was alright. If anything had gone wrong, had Porthos and Aramis reached him in time?

The answer came a few minutes later. D'Artagnan had to stop himself from reacting, knowing it would cause him pain to do so. He did not want to cause a distraction for his brothers by drawing attention to himself when they reached the infirmary.

Athos was being helped by both Porthos and Aramis. It was obvious Athos had been injured, he was pale and looked as though he was struggling to remain conscious. Porthos pushed the door to the infirmary open and helped to guide the injured man to the large table. With difficulty, Porthos helped Athos to sit on the edge of the table before steadying him whilst Aramis eased the man's doublet off his shoulders. Aramis' sash had been tied around the wound, but d'Artagnan could see that blood had soaked through the fabric. Aramis unwound the sash before Porthos used a fresh bandage to cover the wound applying pressure. He earned himself a glare and a hiss of pain from Athos. Aramis ripped the arm of the shirt to make it easier for him to get at the injury.

D'Artagnan watched in silence, not wishing to interfere or distract, as his brothers worked to deal with the injury to Athos.

Aramis only had to give Porthos a few instructions, the two men were in tune with each other enough not to need to talk much. Athos allowed himself to be pushed down onto the table, Porthos slipped a pillow behind his head. Aramis busied himself preparing to stitch the wound.

All d'Artagnan could do was watch as his brothers worked. He wondered what had happened. Other than a brief look over at him neither Aramis or Porthos had spoken to him. They had done enough to ascertain that he was still alright before concentrating on Athos. D'Artagnan had no issue with their actions.

Athos hissed in pain as Porthos moved his arm into a better position for cleaning and stitching. Aramis was giving him words of comfort and talking quietly to him as he cleaned the wound. Porthos leaned over the complaining man when he reacted, keeping him still.

Treville pushed the door open and entered the infirmary, he indicated for Aramis and Porthos to continue working.

'What happened?' he asked.

'Looks like he took out five men. He had the injury when we got there,' said Porthos.

'But there were supposed to be two men.'

'When I came around,' said d'Artagnan, 'I heard them talking about what had happened, I remembered that Athos' contact had been with the mercenaries…'

Treville nodded able to fill in the gaps for himself.

'How is he?'

Aramis, who was busy threading a needle looked up, 'it's a nasty wound, and he's lost blood, it's going to take him a while to fully recover.'

'But I will recover,' said Athos quietly without moving his head.

'Of course, you will,' said Porthos, 'you're too stubborn to do anything else.'

Athos managed a chuckle before watching Aramis, who was wielding the now threaded needle. Treville stepped forward and helped Porthos to restrain Athos as Aramis went to work.

D'Artagnan continued to watch quietly as Athos tried and failed to prevent his natural instinct to move away from the pain Aramis was inflicting on him. He lasted for four stitches before the pain clearly overtook him and he went limp.

Treville straightened up. He watched Aramis for a few seconds as his medic continued to stitch. He looked across to d'Artagnan.

'And you, are you feeling better?'

D'Artagnan was not ready for the question from his Captain. He tried to think quickly, work out what he should say. He knew he could not defend his abysmal failure.

Treville smiled at him, 'you were not at fault, d'Artagnan,' he said. 'I am the one who should have thought ahead. I shouldn't have allowed you to be alone after you passed on the information.'

D'Artagnan could not help a slightly shocked look from crossing his face.

'And you are not to blame for talking after you were drugged. None of us could withstand that kind of abuse.'

D'Artagnan saw that Porthos had turned away from him, Aramis was reaching out to lay a hand on the Musketeers' shoulder but Porthos moved away. Aramis went back to his ministrations after a pause.

Treville had not noticed the exchange between the two Musketeers behind him.

'The fact that you are in the state you are is testament to how well you withstood their initial beating...I am proud of you d'Artagnan. You have nothing to be ashamed of and you do not have to worry about getting a dressing down.'

Treville smiled at him, before nodding and turning to go, he looked across to Aramis.

'Do you need anything?'

Aramis who had been looking at Porthos again refocused on Treville, 'no, I've stitched the wound, all we can do is wait.'

Treville nodded before stepping forward to help his men move the injured Musketeer to the bed next to d'Artagnan.

'Shot and then injured in a sword fight,' remarked Treville, 'in separate incidents on the same day...quite impressive.'

As Treville left the room, d'Artagnan noticed that Aramis was looking a little upset now.

He wondered what it was that had caused both Porthos and Aramis to be a little odd. He could not describe what it was about their behaviour that was strange but both men seemed a little off. They were conducting themselves as they should be but there was something about their demeanour that was unusual.

'What happened?' he asked looking at each man in turn. 'Something's gone on, Porthos has barely looked at me since you returned and Aramis, just now, when Treville was talking about Athos you went really pale.'

Porthos glanced at Aramis who looked away for a few seconds.

MMMM

'Porthos realised you were still being affected by the drug and what the drug was doing to you,' said Aramis quietly.

D'Artagnan looked at Porthos who had finally managed to make eye contact again. He had pulled a chair up to sit beside him whilst Aramis sat on the other side keeping an eye on Athos as he related what had happened.

'We needed to know how much of the intelligence you had told the mercenaries. The drug...it made you a little talkative, but when you were asked direct questions you answered them. I don't think you wanted to, you seemed to know that you should not be talking. I think you were fighting it.'

D'Artagnan tried to think back to being given the drug. He had a hazy recollection of being forced to drink, of the men holding him down.

'I remembered a similar drug from my youth...I knew what we needed to do to get you to talk,' said Porthos.

D'Artagnan could see regret in his friend's eyes, 'you had to be direct, to interrogate me, didn't you,' he said.

Porthos looked at him for a few seconds before nodding once.

'You did what you had to do,' said d'Artagnan with a smile.

'Don't make it any easier, I had to be quite forceful with you,' replied Porthos his eyes still filled with regret.

D'Artagnan could see the struggle his friend was having. He hated to imagine the man making the decision to effectively interrogate him. Porthos must have hated doing so.

'I want you to know,' said d'Artagnan after a few moments contemplation, 'that if you are in a similar situation again, I would expect you to do the same. I do not blame you in the slightest. I can't remember it anyway,' he finished with a smile.

'Thank you,' said Porthos with a genuine smile of his own.

'Perhaps Aramis should learn to accept that sometimes things happen, and we should just move on?' said Athos quietly.

They all looked across at him. Aramis glared at him for a few seconds.

'I know,' he said before reaching forward to check the dressing on Athos' arm and check him for any signs of fever.

'What happened between you two?' asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis sighed and turned back towards him, 'I accidentally shot him when I was trying to prevent him being stabbed. I got wound up about it and wouldn't let it go, blaming myself...I got a bit self-centred about it.'

Aramis looked a little embarrassed. D'Artagnan hid a smile and noticed that Athos was doing the same.

'Well, despite the unpleasantness I still want to thank you all for rescuing me. I know Treville has said it wasn't my fault, but I do still feel guilty. I put you all in danger.'

'But you would do the same for any of us?' said Porthos who had recovered his usual tone after being a little quiet.

D'Artagnan nodded without a pause.

'Then do not trouble yourself with self-blame,' said Athos.

D'Artagnan thought for a moment before speaking again, 'you said the drug made me talkative...did I...did I say anything inappropriate?'

He could not help but notice the furtive glances and very slight pause before all three men responded.

'I do not recall.'

'Nothin' I remember.'

'No, I don't think so.'

D'Artagnan felt himself redden, knowing full well all three of his friends were lying to him. But it was obvious that whatever he had said was not going to cause any issues between them. He was, in a way, grateful, that they were choosing to pretend he had not said anything.

'That's alright then,' he said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

MMMM

 **Authors note: a short epilogue follows, there is a loose end that needs to be tidied away.**


	9. Chapter 9

Epilogue

'We could go,' suggested Aramis as he watched Athos shrug into his doublet.

'It has to be me, he would just walk away from anyone else,' replied Athos.

Athos turned to look at Aramis who was watching him with a critical eye. The wound to his arm had healed well, there had been no fever and now he was back to full fitness and ready to return to work. Treville had ordered him and d'Artagnan to remain on light duties until they were fully fit, or rather until Aramis deemed them to be fully fit.

The medic had reluctantly said that they were both well the previous night and that they could get back to a normal routine again. Athos knew that Aramis would have preferred they both remain on light duties for another couple of days but there was a slightly pressing matter that would not wait.

'You're not stopping me from going though,' said d'Artagnan, who was leaning on the door frame watching them.

Athos looked across at the young Musketeer whose bruises had finally faded away. The man had been left very stiff and uncomfortable for several days as the beating he had received took its toll on him. He had struggled to sleep and been a bit short with them at times due to the pain and fatigue. They had humoured him and been there when he had suffered from the occasional bad dream when he finally did sleep.

Aramis sighed, 'if you are sure you will both behave, I'm rather bored with being stuck in here with the pair of you.'

Athos tilted his head as he looked back at Aramis who could not suppress a grin.

'As I am fairly sure that you and Porthos intend to follow us at a discreet distance I doubt any further harm will come to either of us.'

Athos enjoyed watching the grin slip from Aramis' face and a slight look of shock replace it for a few seconds. The revelation caused further amusement to Athos when Porthos appeared behind d'Artagnan.

'Are you two off then?'

'They've worked out our plan Porthos,' said Aramis, 'we are no longer the great tacticians of old.'

Porthos looked at Athos and d'Artagnan in turn before shrugging his shoulders and retreating from the room. Aramis followed him leaving the two recovered Musketeers alone.

'What are you going to do?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Just have a quiet word with him, tell him his services are no longer required...and take him to the Chatelet where he should have been years ago,' said Athos.

'Do you think he will show up?'

'Yes, he is a greedy man, he will want his money. He will have heard that I survived the attack and as far as he is concerned, I do not know that he is responsible.'

'Good, I'd like to see an end to this whole sordid affair,' said d'Artagnan firmly.

'As would I,' replied Athos.

MMMM

D'Artagnan followed Athos' lead, he was to hang back a little, out of sight until Athos had made contact. Once Ruiz had been engaged in conversation with Athos, d'Artagnan would approach the man from behind ready to block any escape attempt.

He watched as Athos approached the meeting place. Ruiz was not there. Had Athos been wrong? Had the man not been drawn to continue his interactions with Athos, was the money no longer worth it?

Athos looked around for a few seconds before taking a few steps towards the alleyway that ran alongside the warehouse. An alcove under the steps where Ruiz should have been seemed to draw Athos' attention. He glanced back to d'Artagnan and indicated for him to approach.

The reason for Athos' interest in the alcove soon became clear. A man was lying at an awkward angle under the steps. He was bleeding from several wounds, the blood darkening his mismatched clothing and pooling beneath him. Bruises covered his face; one eye was swollen shut.

Ruiz had looked better.

He was breathing shallowly; his unfocused eye was looking at Athos who had crouched down beside him.

D'Artagnan was distracted for a couple of seconds by footsteps approaching them. Aramis stepped up to the injured man, kneeling beside him. Porthos looked down shaking his head and muttering something about 'no honour among thieves'. Aramis made a cursory inspection of his injuries before glancing at Athos and shaking his head. Athos nodded.

Aramis rose and stepped away. Athos leaned closer to Ruiz who was talking quietly. They watched for a few seconds as Ruiz spoke and Athos replied a couple of times before leaning back after closing the man's open eye.

Ruiz was dead.

'He apologised,' said Athos with a shake of his head. 'He actually apologised for switching sides.'

'Whose side was 'e on?' asked Porthos.

Athos moved to stand and looked down at his dead contact for a few seconds.

'I'm not sure he knew anymore. Perhaps that is why this happened. Perhaps he forgot who he was double-crossing with who.'

'So this was done by more of the mercenaries?' asked d'Artagnan, looking at the assortment of fatal injuries the turncoat had received.

D'Artagnan tried not to shudder at the recollection of his own treatment at the hands of the men who had killed Ruiz. He had some idea of what the man had probably gone through, d'Artagnan was not sure if he was sympathetic or not.

'He had been playing a dangerous game for some time. It finally caught him up,' said Athos. 'Perhaps this was a better end for him than a lifetime in the Chatelet?'

Aramis had stepped forward again and was checking the dead man's pockets before making the sign of the cross and quietly saying a prayer.

When Aramis had finished, he stepped back again. They all looked down at the body of the man who had been partly responsible for causing them all issues in the recent weeks. Ruiz would no longer be responsible for anything.

D'Artagnan thought that was a good thing.

The End.

 **Authors note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.**


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